


To Heal A Lonely Heart

by killjoy_assbutt



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dad! Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romance, Smut, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, unfaithfulness as a consequence of spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 82
Words: 152,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoy_assbutt/pseuds/killjoy_assbutt
Summary: When the White Wolf is hired to kill a rogue witch, he goes for it - at first. Coin is coin, after all, and from what the villagers have told him about her, she's dangerous. And she is, attacking him on first sight - but with a Witcher's sword? He is hesitant to kill her. How did she get that blade?The witch falls for him rather quickly, as he is the only person who ever gave her a chance. But is a Witcher capable of love?Join Geralt and Nienna on their journey over the Continent.AU where Witchers can have children, but only with elves or people of elven blood (smth about magic) (as long as said person still has their uterus ( sorry, Yen!!)).(This will be a hella long story)______________________________________________________________________this is my second fanfiction ever, and the first time writing romance (and smut), so every constructive criticism is welcome and very much appreciated :)Thank you for taking time to read <3
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 301
Kudos: 264





	1. Witch!

The people of Vergen hated me. They were scared of me, of what I could do, even though all I am doing is to help them, heal their sick and sell them potions. Once I had brought back a man from the brink of death. That was all it took for them to hate me. They accused me of necromancy, but didn’t have the guts to come and arrest me. Anyway, I did not wake up the dead, only heal a man who was close to death; there is a difference, but the people didn’t seem to care. I originally had come here to find refuge. As a half elf life was not easy, and it was even harder when you are a woman, a woman with the ability to use magic.  
I cannot understand why they hate elves so much, humans I mean. All my elders have ever done was helping the humans after the Conjunction of the Spheres, just like what I was doing now. My mother had taught me everything I know about magic and healing. She had always told me to do good, even though the world will be doing the opposite. So here I was, an outcast, healing and helping ungrateful people, who would like it best to see me dead.  
I should stop, but then I would starve. So I keep helping them for little coin. Not really a life worth living, but still better than death.  
I should hate humans, too. They have taken everything from me. My family, my home. My mother was killed during the Great Cleansing. I was 74 years old when that happened – young for an elf. The humans slaughtered her like an animal. I could escape thanks to my father, but I never really knew him. He brought me here, to Vergen, and told me to hide, to tell no one who or what I was, and to only use magic if I absolutely needed to. He used to visit from time to time, but his visits had stopped a long time ago. I don’t remember much of him, not even his name, or what he was doing. I asked him once, but he told me that it was safer for me if I didn’t know.  
So here I am now, brewing potions in a small cottage just outside of Vergen, at the edge of a small forest.  
The distant sound of a horse drawn cart shook me from my trance as I was stirring in a kettle and chanting a spell in Elder, otherwise the potion would be useless. I sensed that there was no danger coming from whoever was approaching, but I still grabbed my dagger and pushed it into my belt behind back as I stepped outside.  
On the cart lay a coughing young girl. The other woman on the cart, probably her mother, stepped up to me.  
“Please,” she said with tears in her eyes, her voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “my daughter… her fever won’t go away.”  
I took a step closer to the cart, inspecting the little girl. She was pale, almost as white as a sheet, pearls of sweat ran down her face as she coughed and wheezed, her small body writhing.  
“Bring her inside,” I told the woman, “follow me.” I led her inside and pointed to the small makeshift bed I had put up in front of the fireplace I had set up for my patients. “Lay her down,” I ordered as I disappeared into the kitchen, collecting all the herbs, oils and potions I would need. I returned to the main room and started mixing the medicine for the girl.  
“Do you have other children at home,” I asked the concerned mother, who was clutching her daughter’s icy hand in her warm ones.  
She glanced at me, confused, before returning her gaze to her daughter. “No. Why?” she answered.  
“The fever,” I started to explain, “spreads fast among little children.It ends deadly if it is not treated within the first four days. Adults are immune.”  
The woman grew pale, counting the days of her daughter’s sickness in her head – I could tell from her expression.  
“To-t-tod-today is the fourth day,” she stuttered out.  
“Well, then you are lucky that you decided to come to me,” I told her. The medicine was finished now and I poured it into a vial, careful not to spill anything. I left about a spoon full in the bowl and walked over to the bed. I held the girl’s head and lifted the bowl to her impossibly pale lips. “Here. Drink this.” And she did. Within minutes a little colour returned to her face and she stopped writhing. I handed the woman the medicine. “Twice a day, best in the morning and in the evening. One spoon full each time. For the next three days. If it has not stopped until then, come back.” I instructed.  
The mother almost wept tears of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”  
I smiled at her. It was nice to have someone be grateful for once. Nevertheless, I had to be paid. “That’d be 100,” I stated.  
Her expression hardened, but she still handed me her coin purse. Picking up her daughter and carrying her out the door, I heard her mutter something about ‘greedy elves’. I ignored that. I’ve been called things way worse; ‘greedy elf’ and ‘whore’ were the nicest things.  
Days passed and I kept up with my business: brewing potions, mixing salves and collecting herbs in the forest. The woman did not return, so I assumed the little girl was healed. Either that or she was dead. If the latter was the case then it wouldn’t be my fault, though. I knew how to cure the child, and if the woman refused to follow my instructions, it was her fault.  
When I returned to my cottage from my daily search for herbs in the forest the door was wide open. I knew I had closed it! A sorrel horse was standing in front of it, peacefully munching on hay I had laid out for the deer that visited occasionally. Wary, I pulled the dagger from my belt and tiptoed towards my own house.  
When I reached to door I pressed my back against the wall, peeking inside, careful not to be seen. Inside was a hulking figure, his back turned towards me. He was examining everything I left on my table. What on earth did he want? And who was he?  
I reached inside the room, patting along the wall until I felt the hilt of my father’s sword, which he had left here on his last visit, and grabbed it, pulling it towards me as quietly as possible. Once I had retrieved the weapon I threw my dagger at the man, aiming at his hand that was resting on the table.  
Whoever this man was, his reflexes were almost as fast as these of an elf. Before my dagger could pierce his hand, he pulled it away, turning quickly while reaching for his sword, strapped on his back.  
I lifted my own weapon as his golden eyes fixated me.  
With a cry I charged at him, swinging my sword to block his defensive blow.  
He was strong, I could tell, not only from his muscles, but also from his entire stance. He was surprised that I had attacked him, but convinced that he’d defeat me, I could read it in his eyes.  
He backed me up against the wall, his sword on my neck. The only thing protecting myself from his blade was my own weapon blocking his. I ducked away under his arm, my sword pointing at his back. He turned and I charged again. Blow after blow being blocked by his sword as I pushed him back out of my door. He stepped a few steps back, just enough to be out of my sword’s reach, and watched me intently as I jumped forward once again, a battle cry leaving my lounges. Now his fighting changed. After blocking my initial blow he was the one attacking, and I was trying my best to keep up with each swing of this sword. I was walking backwards now, trying to escape him somehow, but he followed, pushing me further back towards the edge of my small front yard. As I hurried from his blasts I tripped over the low wall separating my home from the road. Panicked I scurried away from him, still on my back. He followed mercilessly. Within seconds he stepped over the low wall and stood above me. Knowing that I couldn’t escape him I stopped as he lowered himself to his knees, straddling my waist, the blade of his sword resting against my neck, one hand holding me down by the shoulder.  
Tears sprung to my eyes as I realized that this would be my end.  
“Please,” I whimpered out.  
He eyed me intently. “Give me one reason why I should let you live,” he growled, his voice low and threatening.  
“I-I, I didn’t do anything,” I choked out.  
He contemplated for a moment, then put his sword away, still holding me down though.  
Feeling braver, now that I didn’t have a weapon on my neck I spoke up, “Who are you? And what were you doing in my house?” I asked him, slightly angry, but still afraid; he could snap my neck with one quick movement of his hand, I was certain.  
He ignored my first question. “I was hired by the townsfolk to kill a witch who has been poisoning the people with her ‘healing potions’,” his deep voice rumbled through me. He was so close. If I lifted my head only the tiniest bit I could kiss him. No! What am I thinking? He wanted to kill me only moments ago!  
I huffed. I have never done harm to any of them! “So, this is what they say about me, huh? I did not do that. Let me go.” I wiggled a little under his grip, an attempt to get up, putting emphasis on my last sentence. But he only pushed me back down.  
“And what if I don’t.“ His voice was playful now. Why?  
Okay. Now I was angry. “Then you might get hurt,” I stated through clenched teeth, balling my fists, ready to use my magic to push him off of me.  
He realized what I was doing though, his hand leaving my shoulder as he pushed my wrists to the ground. “Nuh-uh,” he almost chuckled, gaining a growl from me.  
“Get. Off. Of. Me. Now!” I hissed at him. And he finally did. He got up, grabbed his sword and sheathed it. I ,too, rose to my feet, walking over to where I had dropped my sword. But he beat me to it and lifted it up. He examined the weapon for a long time, deep in thought, his face almost strained as he tried to remember… whatever.  
After some time he finally turned to me, his eyebrows knitted together. “How did you get that? How come you have a Witcher’s sword?” his growling voice demanded.


	2. The Witcher

I stood there. Gaping at him like a fish on the shore. “I- A-a w-what?” I stuttered out. Sure, I had known about witchers; magically enhanced humans, mutants, emotionless killing machines, and other stuff humans told about them. But I’ve never met one, at least not that I knew about.  
“I said: why do you have a Witcher’s sword?” the man growled again.  
I looked at him, dumbfounded, blinking at him a few times before answering. “I, uhh, my father left it here, decades ago. I, uhm…”  
“Your father? How did he get a witcher’s sword, then?” the stranger pressed.  
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know anything about my father. He… my mother raised me on her own. During the Great Cleansing he found me, got me out of Dol Blathanna and brought me here. He visited every now and then, checking up on me, but he never stayed for long.” I took a break, looking at him, intently, thinking. “Can I trust you?” I asked.   
The stranger opened his arms in an inviting gesture. “If not, you’d be dead.”  
Wow, this man really did know how to speak with women…  
“Hm,” I huffed, “follow me then.” I led him inside and mentioned for him to sit at the table, pulling out my dagger in the process. He sat and I went into my kitchen, pouring a pint of ale for each of us. Then I returned to him, set the ale down with a thud and took the chair opposite of him.  
“So, how do you know my father’s sword is a Witcher’s, huh?” I asked him, feeling confident within my walls.  
The stranger looked at me as if I was stupid. “Because,” he started, “I carry a similar one.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the hilt of his own sword.  
Now I really felt stupid. The dark armour, that almost dance-like fighting style, even the golden eyes… it all came together. “You’re a Witcher,” I breathed out in realization.   
To my defence, it is hard to figure out who another person is, while you are fighting them, or fear for your life.  
He only nodded.  
I just stared at him, my mind reeling. He was handsome. A face crafted by the Gods. Piercing golden eyes, as he stared back at me. Tall, muscular. That armour and those swords. And… that necklace. A wolf baring his fangs. I’ve seen that before.  
“Your necklace, where did you get that?” I snapped out of my trance.  
“Every witcher has one. Why?” he simply said.  
I blinked a few times. “M-my father had- my father had one too,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.  
“Hold up a second! You father is a witcher?” the handsome stranger almost yelled out.  
“Shhh,” I hissed at him, nearly leaping over the table to cover his mouth with my hands.  
“But, witchers are sterile.” He looked confused.  
“Well, obviously not,” I pointed out, gaining an annoyed glance from the witcher sat in front of me.  
We sat in silence for a while, each of us deep in thought as we drank our ale. It grew dark outside. Hours had passed when he looked at me again.  
“Why do the people hate you so much that they hire me to kill you?” he asked, his eyes sincere and compassionate.  
I laughed humourlessly. “They didn’t tell you?”   
“Tell me what?”  
“I’m half elven. They’re scared of me, even though almost everything I do is to help them.”  
“Well, that makes two of us.” I looked at the witcher, confused. “What? Did you really think witchers are celebrated like white knights?”  
“N-no,” I stuttered, “I guess you’re right.” I reached out for his pint. “here, let me…” but he snatched it from in front of my hand and followed me into the kitchen, where I poured each of us a new one.  
“It’s getting late,” he mentioned as he stood in my kitchen and sipped on his ale.  
I wasn’t sure what he wanted to reach with that, to be honest. “You can stay for the night,” I offered, “when they find out that I’m still alive they will come after you with pitchforks and torches. Better you stay away from that town.”  
“Thanks, but…” he started, but I interrupted him.  
“No ‘but’s. Please, I insist. For sparing my life. I have a bed, food and…” I smelled him. Ew. “… and a bath.” I suggested, rising an eyebrow at him.  
He thought about that for a moment. Finally he answered, ”Well, if you insist. A bath sounds tempting.”  
I nodded and smiled, satisfied with his answer. I led him to my small bathroom, an empty bathtub sitting in the middle.  
“Uh, I don’t want to alarm you, but… there’s no wat-“ he started.  
“Shh.” I silenced him with the raising of my hand. Then I stared at the empty bathtub and whispered, “pannavinén born” and the tub filled with steaming water. The witcher next to me glanced in my direction, impressed, as I smiled at him. I handed him a bar of soap and left the room. Before I closed the door I turned to him. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.” The only answer was an appreciative grunt as he started ridding himself of his armour.   
I quietly snickered to myself as I made my way back to the kitchen and started cooking.   
I have to say, I was tempted to go back, to peek into the bathroom and get a look of him without his armour, but instead I focused on the stew I was cooking. Why was I even thinking about him like that? We only met today and he wanted to kill me! By the Gods, Nienna! Think straight!  
After about half an hour came a call from the bathroom. “Uhhm, witch?” I heard and walked towards the voice. I peeked my head into the steam filled room.   
“What is it, Witcher?” I asked.  
He looked at me, an almost sheepish expression on his face. “You don’t happen to have towels, do you?” he asked me.   
Oh, shit. I knew I had forgotten something. “Uh, yeah, hold on.”  
I sprinted to my bedroom and grabbed the freshly washed fabric from a basket, before rushing back to that waiting man in my tub.  
“Here you go,” I said while handing him the towel, stepping back a little, admiring his muscular form. Damn, he was ripped; arms as thick as my thigh. He cleared his throat, ripping me out of my staring. My eyes shifted to his face, as my own face grew hot. He was rising an eyebrow at me, an amused smirk on his face.   
“Uhh, right. When you’re done, dinner is almost ready,” I stuttered out, rushing out of the room to leave him a little privacy.   
Another five minutes or so had passed when I heard footsteps coming closer. I was standing in the kitchen, dishing up the stew. Just as I wanted to turn and carry the bowls over to the table I almost bumped into the now clean witcher. He smelled of lavender and strawberries, just like the soap I had given him.  
“Here, let me…” He reached out for the bowls in my hands. His calloused but somehow soft fingers brushing mine ever so slightly as he took our dinner from me, sending a shiver through my entire body. Shaking away the feeling I cut a few pieces of fresh bread and put them on a plate, walking over to the table.  
We ate in silence. As I was almost done I looked up at him. “You know, you never told me your name,” I noticed.   
He, too, interrupted his eating to look at me. “Neither did you,” he chuckled, before adding, “It’s Geralt… of Rivia.”  
I smiled at him. “Nienna.”  
We continued eating and once we were done I cleaned up the dishes. Geralt came up behind me, leaning against the wall. “You mentioned a bed?” he reminded me.  
“Hmm, yes,” I hummed, “over there, in front of the fireplace.” I mentioned with my hand over to the main room of my cottage.   
He supressed a chuckle, “Not to sound ungrateful, but I think it’s too small for me.”  
I turned, eyeing him and then the makeshift bed. He was right. The bed was way too small for him.  
“It’s okay. I’ll sleep in there. You can have my bed.”  
“You really don’t nee-“ he started, only to be interrupted.  
“No. you sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep in that one,” I said firmly, mentioning at the main room with my hand.   
He only looked at me, shocked, but I couldn’t tell why. Was it that he wasn’t used to people, especially women, interrupting him like that? Surely people treated him with respect, even though, or maybe because they were scared of him. Or was it that he wasn’t used to people being nice to him?  
Once I dried off the last bowl, I showed the witcher to my bedroom.   
“Good night, Geralt,” I said and left the room, but not before grabbing another blanket for myself. I had not lit the fireplace, the days were too warm for that, but the nights still got bitterly cold.  
“Good night, Nienna,” I heard the witcher whisper behind me as I closed the door.   
Shivering I curled up on the bed, wrapped in the blankets. My mind was reeling now that I had a quiet moment to think about everything. My father was a witcher. And now there was another witcher sleeping in my bed. One who was hired to slay me. But he spared my life. Witchers must have emotions, because I know my father loved me and my mother. And if they didn’t have emotions then I would have died today. An emotionless beast – what witchers are always said to be – would have killed me without hesitating.  
I fell asleep, still shivering.


	3. Early Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok, so this chapter has smut in it. i marked where it starts and ends, so you can skip it if you're not into that. this also is the first smut i've ever written, so feedback could be helpful (only if you want, of course).
> 
> i hope you enjoy :)

I woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. Not really thinking I got up and tiptoed over to my bedroom, quietly sneaking inside as I saw the witcher fast asleep in my bed. I felt the heat radiating from him from where I stood in the doorway. Shivering I followed his warmth and laid down next to him, cuddling into the blankets and his warm body, hoping I wouldn’t wake him up. Finally warm I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up a good hour before dawn to the feeling of something laying on my waist. I opened my eyes to see it was Geralt’s arm, holding me close.

“Morning,” he chuckled. I could feel the vibrations rumbling through his chest.

“Morning,” I yawned, making no move to get off of him. He was comfortable and warm, and I was still tired, so I stayed where I was. The witcher seemed amused by that, chuckling quietly to himself. We stayed like this for at least another hour. The sun was slowly rising now, drowning the room in a golden light.

Then the witcher spoke up. “Nienna,”

“Hmm.”

“If these people hate you so much that they hire me to get rid of you, why do you stay here?”

I lifted my head a little, resting my chin on his chest to look into his golden eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s been my home for the last 46 years, I can’t just leave. Also, what if my father comes back and can’t find me?”

He held me a little tighter, his expression falling. “I don’t want to hurt you, Nienna, I really don’t, but… a witcher never parts from his sword. If he gave it to you, then because he knew he was going to die.”

I wish I could say I was surprised, but the truth is, I already knew that my father would never return to me. I guess part of me was hoping for him to come back, because, apart from him I had nobody in this cruel world. But now that Geralt had confirmed my suspicion nothing was holding me here anymore.

“Hmm,” I only hummed in response as I stared into his mesmerising amber eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered sincerely.

I only smiled sadly at him from where I was laying on his chest, hands propped underneath my chin. “It’s alright. I barely knew him anyway.”

We just stared at each other, the golden sunrise illuminating his face. Gods, this man was gorgeous!

And as we stared his lips stretched to a wicked smile.

“Come here,” he said as he grabbed my hips and pulled me to lay on top of him, my legs straddling his waist. But he didn’t do anything else, just held me close and continued staring into my eyes. I saw something spark in his and giggled softly.

“You know?” I started, “I can read your thoughts.”

“Hmm. Is that so?” his deep voice sounded warm and soft. “Then, what am I thinking.”

I shifted a little closer to his face, never once breaking eye contact.

“Hmm,” I hummed. I saw his thoughts immediately – and oh boy! “Geralt, it’s early morning!” I exclaimed playfully, faking shock.

“So? What am I thinking?” he repeated, grinning.

\------------------------------- smut starts about here ----------------------------------------

“You think… that you like how my boobs feel pressed against your chest. And … that you – amongst other things – want to kiss me,” I concluded.

His right hand left my hip and grabbed my neck instead, his thumb stroking my cheek softly. “And? Can I?” he mumbled.

I smirked at him, biting my lip slightly. “Try and find out.”

That was all it took for him to pull my face down and crash his lips on mine. The kiss was soft at first, his lips tenderly caressing my own. When I kissed back though, the kiss grew more passionate. He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth, earning a gasp from me. He took it as an invitation to push his tongue into my mouth, exploring, fighting for dominance and eventually winning as I moaned into the kiss.

At the same time his hand on my hip was balling up my thin underdress, pushing it up over my bum as he slipped his hands beneath the thin fabric, calloused fingertips softly caressing my smooth skin until they reached my boobs. He kneaded my aching breast, this thumb swiping over my nipple every now and then until it was hard like a pebble.

I broke the kiss to moan, sitting up on his stomach as he lifted my dress over my head, exposing my naked body to his view and the cold air in the room. He admired the view above him for a short while before pulling me back down and flipping us around so he was on top. He got rid of his own shirt, flinging it somewhere next to the bed, before diving back down, attacking my neck with feverish kisses. I just lay there panting, twisting my fingers in his long white hair as he kissed down my neck to my chest, paying special attention to my collarbones and leaving hickeys in his wake. I gasped as he sucked an especially dark hickey right between my breast, tugging at his hair and earning a groan from him. I pulled his head back up and he complied, crashing his lips on mine yet again. The kiss was heated and demanding, and I rocked my hips up against him, looking for any kind of friction to quench the dull ache between my thighs that was driving me crazy.

The witcher above me broke the kiss, chuckling. “Hmm. Eager, are we?” I couldn’t answer; I was panting and writhing underneath him. He ran his hand down my stomach to the waistband of my panties. He shot me a quick questioning look and I nodded, before he pushed his hand inside running a finger through my dripping slit. “Hmm, and so wet.” He pulled his hand back out, brushing my clit in the process, causing me to cry out, as he pulled my panties down my shaking legs and discarding them somewhere next to the bed. Then he lowered himself again, grinding his own arousal down onto my aching pussy, finally providing the desperately needed friction. I cried out, tangling my fingers in his long hair yet again and tugging, as he was kissing and nipping along my jaw. I could feel him through is trousers – and man, he was huge. I didn’t know if he was going to fit… now should be the right time to tell him that he was my first…

“Ger…” I panted out, “I … I’ve ne-never…”

He looked up at me, passion disappearing from his face almost completely. “You’re a virgin,” he asked seriously, but it sounded more like a statement. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I only nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence as I was still panting like crazy, and reached down to the laces of his breeches, fumbling with the string and struggling to undo the knot. The witcher batted my hands away softly, undoing the laces by himself as I was laying underneath his towering body. He pushed down has breeches and his cock sprung free. If I thought he was big earlier I was absolutely sure now. I stared at it in a mixture of terror and desire, my whole body shaking in anticipation.

“Are you really sure?” Geralt asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Yes,” I breathed out, and he was upon me, one of his hands guiding my thigh to rest against his waist as the other guided his length into my core.

He pushed in slowly, stretching me out as I clamped down at the sudden intrusion. A hand came up to my cheek, stroking it gently as he whispered to me, “Relax. Yes, just like that. Good, so good.” Once he was fully inside he halted his movements for me to get used to the stretched and fill sensation. It hurt, but the pain slowly subsided, being replaced by a burning hunger. I thrusted my hips up, gaining a moan from both of us, as the witcher above me started moving. At first I tried to match his thrusts, but as he picked up the pace I found that I couldn’t keep up as he more or less drilled into me. So I lay there, gripping and kissing everything within my reach, my ankles crossed on his lower back, back arching of the bed, a moaning mess.

I cried out loudly as he hit a spot so deep inside my body, I didn’t know it even existed. He kept hitting that spot over and over again. I was tugging on his hair, gaining groan after groan from him, as my moans rose in pitch and a burning coil in my stomach grew bigger and bigger. I felt his hips stutter slightly as he reached between us and rubbed circles on my clit, matching his fervent thrusts. The coil snapped, exploded, sending a warm tingling sensation through my whole body as my muscles spasmed wildly. I came with a loud moan, clutching onto the witcher’s locks between my fingers for dear life as my walls clenched around his cock. He groaned, thrusting his hips deep into mine. Once, twice. He came on the third thrust, shooting his seed deep inside of me.

\---------------------------------- end of smut ----------------------------------------------------------

Panting, he collapsed on top of me, catching himself on his elbows, careful not to crush me with his weight. I was panting too as her grew soft within me, our mixed fluids dripping onto the mattress as he pulled out and laid down next to me, pulling me onto his chest.

Once I caught my breath I giggled. “This was what you thought.”

He stroked my side with his thumb. “No. This was so much better.”

We both looked at each other, chuckling. Then his face turned serious. “Come with me,” he said, but he didn’t need to. I could read it in his eyes. He wanted me with him. Hope, desire, lust, loneliness and the beginning of something more, all visible in his eyes, and I knew that I would follow him wherever he may go.

“I will,” I whispered before dozing off.


	4. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more or less a tie in chapter before the real action starts.

Sleepily I stretched out my arm, feeling for the warmth of the man I had shared my bed with. When I couldn’t feel him next to me my eyes snapped open. Had it all been a dream? No. I was still naked and my mattress had an obvious stain. No, it had been real. I heard a voice from outside and looked out the window. It was almost noon by now. And there he stood, in all his glory, only wearing his breeches and talking to his horse. The scene was honestly absolutely heart-warming. This almost monster of a man talking soothingly to that beautiful horse, which was peacefully munching on… no! Not my flowers! I hastily got up and threw on the first piece of clothing I could find. Which happened to be Geralt’s black shirt. Barefoot I stumbled out of the front door. “Hey! Not those!” I protested as my legs gave out and the witcher caught me, an amused look on his face.  
“Why not? She seems to like them.” He shrugged while holding me up by my waist. Upon noticing what I was wearing he grinned. “You know what they say? Once she wears you clothes she’s yours.”  
“Oh, so you’re planning to keep me?” I joked.  
“For as long as you let me,” he replied. He glanced at his horse. “Oh, right! Uhm, Nienna, this is Roach, my, uh, trusty steed,” he chuckled, before turning to the horse and mentioning at me with his hand. “And Roach, this is Nienna. She’ll come with us.”  
Roach blew through her nose. I raised my hand for her to smell and she did, nudging it with her muzzle, wanting me to pet her. “Hey, beautiful,” I cooed at the mare. Roach nuzzled into my touch, blowing appreciatively.  
“Hmm, seems like she likes you.” The witcher sounded satisfied.  
I smiled at the horse one last time before turning to her owner.  
“I’ll make breakfast,” I told him. With a glance at the sky I added, “or… lunch.”  
He nodded while grabbing a bucket of water, lifting it off the ground for Roach to drink.  
I went to my kitchen and cut the rest of the bread that was left from yesterday. Holding my hand over a pitcher I whispered “yax” and it filled with fresh milk. Just as I was washing berries I had collected yesterday I heard footsteps behind me. They didn’t stop until I felt a chest pressing into my back and hands resting on my waist. The witcher’s hair tickled my exposed skin as he kissed my already marked neck. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, releasing a sigh. And then he was gone, just like the breadbasket and the pitcher filled with milk. I chuckled and turned, just in time to see him step out of the kitchen. Smiling I grabbed the berries and filled them into a bowl, before joining Geralt at the table.  
“So, let me get this straight,” I laughed at him as I sat down, “Witchers usually don’t have feelings, but when they fall for a woman they turn into domestic teddy-bears?”  
“Hmm. No. Witchers do have feelings, but we are taught how to turn them off. Most of us do, because it makes the job easier. And that I’m helping you is just a way of showing my gratefulness for letting me stay the night. Truth is, you’re different from all the other women I have met – and bedded – and something is drawing me to you,” he confessed.  
“Hm, so the Butcher of Blaviken is drawn to me. Should I be scared?” I joked but the witcher grew pale.  
“You know about that?” his deep voice was barely a whisper.  
I smiled sadly at him. “Word travels fast. I’m sorry, but from what I’ve heard, you didn’t have much of a choice.”  
He nodded, but did not look at me. Instead he let his eyes wander around the room. “So, will you come with me?” he asked. I nodded. “You’ll need to pack. I wanted to be gone by tomorrow noon,” he said, his voice lacking of the usual warmth.  
We ate breakfast in silence. When we were done I cleaned up the table and the dishes and started sorting the things I wanted to keep and put them on my bed. It was mostly stuff that I needed for my potions, some clothes and the coin I had earned. Behind me the witcher cleared his throat. “Uhm, will I be getting my shirt back any time soon?” he asked chuckling. I was relieved as the warmth returned to his voice.  
I turned to him, smiling. “Hmm. I don’t know. Come here and find out.”  
“You know what happened the last time you said that.”  
He closed the distance between us with two steps, grabbing my hips and pulling up the shirt. I lifted my arms for him to pull the fabric from me completely. And then I stood before him, nude, while he was slipping into his shirt. He admired my naked form for a while before reaching behind me and pulling a dress from my bed and handing it to me. I got dressed quickly and returned to packing up my stuff. As I was done I put everything into a backpack I had conjured. It wasn’t much: herbs and oils, a little clothing, a few blankets, soap and my coin-purse, a little kettle was dangling from the side. And I’d carry my weapons strapped to my side.  
That night we slept cuddled together, planning to leave this place as early as possible.  
And that we did. We both woke up at dawn and got dressed for the road. While Geralt was putting on his armour with expertise, I got dressed in a dress, tight pants, warm socks and boots. Once I was done I put my hair in a thick braid and draped my cloak over my shoulders. Just as I wanted to grab my backpack it was snatched from in front of my fingers. “We’ll strap it to the saddle.” Was the explanation coming from the witcher. Humming in agreement I strapped my father’s sword to my hip, pushing my dagger into the belt as well.  
“All done,” I beamed at Geralt. Now that I was packed I was eager to leave this place. Or maybe it was just the company that had me excited. We stepped out the front door and Geralt strapped all of our bags to Roach’s saddle. The mare huffed quietly, seemingly not that excited to be out on the road again.  
We walked away from my old home, Geralt leading Roach by the reins and holding my hand with his – well, formerly – free hand. As we were about thirty feet away from the house I turned, taking one last look at the cottage before I raised both my hands, concentrating.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I will not let my home fall into the hands of these people, who tried to murder me!” I explained, just as the roof caught fire. Satisfied I turned back into the direction in which we were walking, along the road, into the forest. I took a deep breath, the first of many in freedom.


	5. A New Life

And then I just stood there. My back turned towards my old home as it burned to the ground, turning my old life to ash.   
I could sense the witcher’s questioning stare burn into the back of my head.  
"They would’ve done it anyway, this way, it's at least me controlling it," I shrugged. Then I turned towards him. “We should leave now. They’ll come here soon to see what happened, and once the fire has died down they will look for my body. And when they can’t find it they will come after us. Only the gods above know what they will do when they find me.”  
I knew Geralt would defend me and himself from these angry villagers, and I, too, had my powers – and sword-skills – but I didn’t know how many of these people would come after us and how many of them we could defeat.  
We started walking, deeper and deeper into the forest. Shortly after we had entered it, we left the road, making our way through the undergrowth. The moment we left the road the man I got to know disappeared. The gentle witcher was gone, replaced by a wary and tense version of himself. He didn’t talk; only glanced at me from time to time as if to make sure I was still there. He had even strapped his sword to his back. When we left, he had it secure in Roach’s saddle bag. He knew something was out here, no doubt. And he was ready to fight it once it decided to show up.  
But nothing happened that day and as we were looking for a place to sleep, Geralt’s gentle side reappeared; he smiled slightly every time our eyes locked, his posture wasn’t as tense as the hours before, all these little things. We came to a clearing, a small river bubbling on its far side.  
“Here. We’ll stay here for the night,” he declared while pulling the saddle off of Roach. She snorted appreciatively.   
“I’ll go get some wood for a fire.”  
“Hm. Be careful. Something is out here.”  
I turned to him, but kept walking, and patted the hilt of my sword. “Then it’ll get a taste of this,” I chuckled at him. But still, I was wary. I mean, I could sense every being in this part of the forest, but some things are resistant even to elven magic. But luckily I came across no such creature.  
I collected a few twigs and branches and returned to the camp. Geralt had finished unloading Roach and was now whispering to her while stoking her soft mane. I stood there for a while, smiling to myself as I watched the two of them. How could this mountain of a man, who was trained to be a killer without mercy or regret, how could he be the gentlest person I’ve ever come across? I didn’t know. But what I did know was that within these three days of getting to know that witcher, I had desperately fallen for him.  
It wasn’t long before he spotted me and waved for me to come closer. “What were you doing back there?” he asked once I was close enough for him not to yell. I shrugged. “Hmm,” I hummed while pulling him down for a quick kiss, “Just wondering how a gentle soul like you can also be the most brutal fighter I’ve ever crossed blades with.”  
“Oh, but I’m not gentle,” he smirked as he unsheathed his sword and walked past me to the middle of the clearing. I dropped the firewood and did the same, following him.   
I stopped in a safe distance from him and we circled each other, our sword raised. “If you want to stay with me, you have to know how to defend yourself. The fight at your house was good – for a start – but you cannot expect mercy from everyone you fight. Ideally, you are the one to decide whether to choose mercy or make the kill,” he explained. Then, he lunged at me. I blocked his blow and swung my blade at him, but he easily parried, charging at me once again. Every once and again he gave me little tips. For example ‘don’t cramp your hands too tight’ or ‘move your feet more’. But soon he had me stumbling over the seam of my dress. While I was laying there on the ground he was standing above me, smiling arrogantly at his victory, but still extending a hand for me to get up. I grabbed his hand, but at the same time I kicked the back of his knee. Surprised, he fell and rolled onto his back. Within seconds I was above him, straddling his waist, pulling the dagger from my belt and held it to his throat. Now I was smiling arrogantly down at him.  
“Hmm. Well played. But I recall telling you to –“ He grabbed my hips. ”– never, ever let your enemy –“ He flipped us over. “– distract you.” He grabbed the dagger from my hand and help it against my throat. I only smirked at him – I had a plan.   
“Oh. You mean like… this,” I said in my sweetest voice as I pulled his head down to give him a heated kiss. When he kissed back – even more passionate, if I may add – I flipped us over yet again. Geralt had dropped the dagger by now and was holding me by the waist. I reached out and felt around the grass until my fingers touched the cold metal of the dagger’s blade. Carefully I pulled it closer, grabbing it by the hilt once it was within my reach, never once breaking the kiss. As I broke the kiss I sat up straight, holding the tip of the dagger mere inches from the now panting witcher’s Adam’s apple.   
“Huh,” he huffed, “Seems like I’ve underestimated you.”  
“Hmm, yeah. Seems like you did,” I chuckled at him as I got up. “Now, come on, I’m hungry.”   
Chuckling he followed me back to where Roach was peacefully munching on the grass. I picked up the wood I had collected and piled it to a little campfire. Geralt was already looking through his bags for firestones, but I only laughed at laid my hand on his forearm.   
“You’re traveling with a witch now,” I giggled as I extended my hand over the wood and concentrating. Within a minute we had a nice little fire going.   
“Well, the witch didn’t happen to pack food, did she?” he asked.   
“Hmm, no. Why waste space when I can –“ I held out my hands and concentrated. “- do this?” Two small loafs of bread appeared in my hands and I gave one to the impressed witcher.  
“Who taught you that?” he asked after taking a bite.  
“My mother. She, uh, she taught me everything I know about chaos and healing. You know? What the Brotherhood teaches its sorcerers is barely scraping at the surface of what chaos is capable of. My mother told me that all I need to do is concentrate on whatever I need – sometimes saying it makes it happen faster – and it would appear. Small things are easy to conjure, as well as inanimate things. Conjuring a larger animal would drain my power like a life-threatening wound or a fever.”  
Geralt nodded at my explanation and ate. “Why did your father tell you to only use magic when absolutely necessary? I mean, from what I’ve seen, you’re pretty damn powerful,” he asked me after a while, genuinely interested.  
“Well, thanks to you I know why he wasn’t there to protect me; still, he wanted me to be safe. I, uh, I never tried using magic to fight, and my mother didn’t teach me. She told me to never abuse my gift to harm people. So, for a long time I was hiding. I let no one know even the tiniest thing about me, not even my name. I feared that if I used magic, the Brotherhood would find me. And I guess you know what they think about elves. The first one to come for me… was you. The people in town – I don’t know how they found out that I was elven, but somehow they did – were afraid of me for being able to save people from the brink of death, but they were too scared to make a move.”  
The witcher let out a dry laugh. “Humans. Hate and fear what they don’t understand. And all we do is help them.”  
I looked at him, first nodding in agreement, then halting, thinking. “But you were human once, isn’t that right.” Sorry, but since he is questioning me about my past, I want to know more about him, too…  
He tensed a little and looked me straight in the eye. I could see – no, feel – what pain he had to endure during his transformation, and that at such a young age. “As a child, yes, but that was a long time ago.” He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and I respected that. If it was me in his place… I wouldn’t talk to anyone about that, either. So I dropped the topic. His statement had me thinking about something else, anyway.  
“How old are you, Geralt?” I asked, seemingly out of nowhere.  
Confusion flashed over his face. “73, why? And you?”  
“Mhh, I just wanted to know… about which things I can talk like they happened yesterday and you still understand me,” I laughed slightly. “I’m 120 years old.”   
His expression turned impressed. “And look at you,” he joked, “really, for your age. Other women would kill to look like that.”   
I giggled in protest, “120 is very young for an elf, even for an half-elf!”   
“Well, if you say so, grandma.”  
I playfully and softly batted his biceps; I honestly doubt he had even felt that, as he was still wearing his armour.   
After that we ate up and prepared our beds for the night. Or better, we laid out a blanket in the tall grass, laid on them and covered up with another blanket.   
We fell asleep in each other’s embrace. But it was a light sleep; somehow my body was prepared to be fully awake at the first sign of danger.


	6. Fangs and Black Eyes

I woke up the next morning, feeling uneasy. From the even breath that sank and lifted the witcher’s chest – my pillow for the night – I could tell that Geralt was still asleep. The sun hasn’t started to rise yet, but it would soon. The forest was quiet. Way too quiet for this early hour. Normally the birds would be singing and chirping their little hearts out, but they didn’t. The small river that ran across the clearing, which had gurgled loudly when we arrived here yesterday, was now eerily silent. Only a quiet bubbling was audible, barely loud enough even for my sharp senses. Something was out there, and it controlled this forest.  
I sat up straight, breaking out of the witcher’s embrace, his arm falling into the grass behind my back. This caused him to stir slightly, grunting in his sleep, but he didn’t wake up. I shook his shoulder, hoping that he’d not see me as a threat and attack me if I woke him up.  
“Geralt,” I whisper-shouted, “wake up! Something is wrong. Come … on… wake up.”  
And he finally opened his eyes, darting them around the clearing in alarm. He was looking for something.  
“It’s too quiet.” Was all he said as he got up and put his armour back on. “Let’s leave quickly.”  
While he was getting dressed, I packed up our stuff. Looking down at my dress when I was done I knitted my brows together. If we had to run, I’d fall over the seam again. I grabbed the dagger from my belt and cut down along the middle of the dress, extending the line of the laced up front all the way down to the seam – good thing I’ve chosen to wear breeches underneath. Yes, now I’d be able to run without stumbling. I looked up to see Geralt securing the last bag to Roach’s saddle. We only nodded at each other and left the clearing, wary now, fingers twitching at the slightest of sounds, ready to reach for our swords.  
“Were there any strange disappearances around here?” whispered the witcher after some time.   
I shrugged. “Not that I know of,” I whispered back, “But if there were, the villagers would have blamed me, anyway.”  
A shiver ran down my spine, and I had a weird feeling. “Do you also have the feeling that we’re being watched?” I asked as quiet as possible.   
“Hm. Something is definitely out here.”  
But nothing happened and until noon we just walked in silence, the rustling of the leaves underneath our feet and our steady breathing were the only sounds. I concentrated for a second, sensing for any living being around here. They were there, but they were all mute, silenced by the threat that was hanging in the air like thick fog on a cold autumn morning.   
A rustling in the bushes made my ears twitch. I turned towards the noise. Nothing. Then I heard it again. From behind us this time. I glanced at Geralt. He had just drawn his sword, so I did the same. We kept walking, paying attention to every small movement.  
A low growl sounded behind us and I whipped around. A hairy beast with a wolf-like head had broken from the bushes and was now running at us.   
“Fuck.” I heard the witcher mutter as he pushed me to stand behind him. He was reaching for the other sword – his silver one – that was still in Roach’s saddle bag as the creature got dangerously close. Stepping out from behind Geralt, I held both of my hands out in front of me, thinking of a wall between the monster and us. I heard a yelp and opened my eyes. The thing had crashed into the invisible barrier and was now pacing along it.   
Geralt turned to me, wide-eyed, then looked at Roach. Without explanation he lifted me by the waist to sit on the horse’s back. Then he slapped her rear and she started galloping just as the barrier broke. Struggling to reach for the reins I clung on to her neck as we heard growling, howling and groaning from behind us. Roach stopped abruptly, making me lose grip and fall off her back. As I got up I looked into the direction of the fight, just in time to see the witcher stab his sword through the creature’s head as it howled out in pain.  
I grabbed Roach’s reins and hurried back towards Geralt. This time it was me – not Roach – who stopped abruptly. The witcher’s eyes were pitch black and his skin was so much paler than usual. This was the first time I’ve seen him – no, the first time I’ve seen a witcher – like that.  
Seeing my hesitation he carefully reached out for me, gently whispering, “Nienna, it’s me.”  
With a shaky breath I reached my hands up to touch his face. “What have they done to you?” I whispered as my fingers touched the cool skin of his jaw and cheek bones. He slightly nuzzled into the touch as the colour returned to his eyes and skin.   
Around us, the forest came alive again; the birds started singing, the leaves were rustling peacefully, even the light seemed to be warmer, covering everything in a soft golden light.  
“What was that?” I asked Geralt as we broke apart, mentioning towards the dead body on the ground.   
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of werewolves.” He sounded surprised.  
“Well, I grew up pretty sheltered from the outside-world…” I reminded him.  
“Yeah, well, that was a werewolf, a born one to be exact. It’s been following us since we left the road.”   
“I… But I couldn’t sense it… why?”  
“Hmm. I have no idea. But your thing with that barrier was great. Do you think you’ll use more of that in battle?”  
“Ugh. I don’t know. My mother used to tell me to never use it to hurt somebody, but her life was so much different from how I live. I… I think I will use magic to fight,” I said, nodding. It may go against everything I was taught, but it will be necessary, seeing what a close call today has been; if I hadn’t put up the barrier we’d both be either dead or bleeding to death right now.  
Glancing at the dead werewolf on the ground one last time, we started walking again. Soon enough I heard the rumbling of a stomach. I wasn’t sure whose it was, Geralt’s or mine. All I knew was that I very hungry. We both hadn’t eaten much the last few days. I held out my hands and let bread appear and handed one to the witcher.   
“I should have come here earlier,” he chuckled, accepting the bread. We both ate and kept walking.  
“This is so much better than having to hunt for food, or buy it.”  
“Mhh,” I hummed, “I could think of a way for you to pay,” I tried to sound seductive as I started running away from him.   
Naturally, he was faster than me and soon had me backed up against a tree. Roach was lazily trotting after us.   
“And how do you think would I pay you, huh?” he said in a low voice, grabbing my hips and pushing me back against the trunk of the tree.  
I only smirked in response, grabbed his jaw and pulled him down, crashing my lips on his. He kissed back hungrily, and soon we were lost in passion, all while poor Roach had to watch.


	7. Broken

“Yeah, that seems like a fair price,” panted the witcher once we both came down from our high.  
I smiled, holding out my hand. Confused he took it into his own, as I shook it curtly. “It’s deal, then,” I giggled.  
“Hm. Deal. You’ll have to do better than bread then, though,” he grinned down at me.  
I smiled as we made our way back to Roach. “Poor girl,” I said to her as I stroked her mane, “Had to see everything.” This earned me an affirmative snort from the mare.  
Next to me, the witcher shrugged. “Wasn’t her first time,” he said nonchalantly. Roach grunted at this, almost sounding annoyed. I chuckled at her reaction and we continued walking.  
We were making our way west towards Temeria, walking all day and resting by night, eating while walking. This continued for three days until we reached a river, the Pontar, exactly where a ferry lay at the shore.  
“Passage for two people and a horse,” Geralt grunted towards the ferryman. The latter held out his hand as we stepped closer. “That’ll be 50. But make sure your nag doesn’t shit.”  
With a hard expression on his face Geralt handed the man his coin and led Roach and me on the ferry. It was a short way across the river, and within about ten minutes we stood on the other shore.  
“Come,” said the witcher and started walking towards the village that stretched out in front of us. A little hesitant I followed after him, making sure that my hair was covering my ears. They weren’t as pointy as those of a pure elf, but too pointy to pass as ‘all human’. Geralt led us towards an inn, bringing Roach to the stables and ridding her of our bags, before entering the tavern.   
Inside it was loud and packed with people smelling of stale beer. The man behind the bar spoke up as he saw us – two hooded figures, obviously carrying weapons – entering, “Welcome to Flotsam inn! How can I – Witcher!” the inn-keeper narrowed his eyes at us. The whole inn was quiet, staring at the tall hooded figure in front of me. I heard muttering, something along the lines ‘go fuck yourself’ and ‘mutant bastard’. “We don’t want your kind here!” I pushed myself in front of Geralt, who was currently clenching his jaw and fists. I knew that the Witchers’ reputation was bad, but I didn’t expect people to react this hostile when they had absolutely no reason to.   
“Please,” I said placatory, “we are only looking for a room to stay the night, nothing more. I promise we won’t cause any trouble.”  
“Pah!” the fat inn-keeper laughed out. “Witcher, you have your whore talk for you,” he mocked.  
I narrowed my eyes at him, jaw and fists clenched. I was angry. If I wanted I could burn this place to the ground with one flick of my wrist. Geralt must have sensed that. He reached out for my forearm from under his cloak, giving it a light squeeze, a silent ‘don’t do it’. Oddly, his touch calmed me down a little bit.  
“She is not a whore,” came the witcher’s voice from above me. It was low and threatening, pushed through clenched teeth. “And she speaks the truth. We are not seeking trouble, only a place to stay for the night. We’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.”  
“Then go, Witcher. 100 orens each,” the fat man said, holding out his hand. I raised my eyebrow. Surely it wasn’t that expensive for all the other guests, but still I complied, digging in my backpack for my coin-purse, and so did the witcher. Without glancing at the people in the tavern even once, we made our way upstairs towards our room.   
Once inside I took in our bearings. Well, the room was clean at least, and the bed looked soft. The hearth was lit, the crackling fire shining a soft golden glow upon the room. In the corner sat a bathtub, already filled with – well…- water. I dipped my fingers in… lukewarm.   
We both sat our bags on the floor and ridded ourselves of our coats, Geralt of his armour and basically everything that we wouldn’t need for the night. We were both silent. One glance at the witcher was enough for me to know that the reaction of the townsfolk had hurt him. Damn humans, always so quick with judgement. Without any sound I pulled a small bottle with lavender oil from my bag and poured some into the bath as I held out my hand until the water was steaming. The steam and the soft sweet smell put a smile on my face and I turned around, facing the witcher.  
“We both need that,” I spoke, scrunching my nose a little, “We stink.”  
Geralt only hummed in agreement, his mind completely elsewhere. This definitely wasn’t the first time he had been treated like this, and what happened earlier reminded him of those other – probably worse – times. If I wanted I could even read it in his mind, but I didn’t want to prod into his past.   
He undressed and got into the tub, grunting appreciatively as the hot water soothed his sore muscles.  
I just stood there for a moment before an idea popped into my head. I quickly got undressed as well and poured some of the oil onto my hands, rubbing them together, heating up the calming-smelling liquid.  
“Hey, could you skid a little?” I asked.  
Geralt had closed his eyes and sat leaned back in the tub. If I didn’t know that he could hear my heartbeat I would have thought he had forgotten I was even in this room. At my voice he opened his eyes, sitting up slightly, for me to sit in front of him. I shook my head, smiling lightly.  
“No,no. To the front. Here, let me…” I said as I slipped into the tub behind him.  
“What are you up to?” came a chuckle from in front of me. Even if he was trying his best to hide the hurt it was still audible in his voice.  
“Mhh, you’ll see.”  
I started massaging the nape of his neck. The muscles were hard and felt like tangled steel wires underneath my fingers. He winced slightly as I dug my fingers into a spot that was especially hard.  
“Sorry,” I muttered.  
Soon enough the tense muscles of his neck loosened up and I moved over to his shoulders, massaging and softly kissing the scars on his shoulder blades.  
“Do they always treat you like this?” I asked after a while.  
A deep sigh. “They’ve done worse,” the witcher’s voice rumbled through his chest. Another groan as I loosened an extremely tense spot.  
“Will you tell me?” I questioned softly. “You don’t have to, though. Only if you want to,” I added hastily.  
Geralt took a deep breath. Hesitant at first he started speaking, ”Well, uh, the people… they were never really fond of us Witchers. Most of the towns I pass through, well, let’s say they tolerate me. Some towns would rather I had never entered them. The people insult me or threaten, but never act on it.”   
He silenced, contemplating whether he should go on. A low huff and he continued talking. “The worst time was in Blaviken.”  
I rubbed his shoulders soothingly. He didn’t need to continue talking; I knew the story, and … none of what happened there was his fault. Those men he killed attacked him first, he was merely defending himself. That girl… well, she had a chance to leave, but she also attacked him in the end. He was called ‘the Butcher of Blaviken’ when in reality all he did was defend himself. The people had stoned him, called him ‘bastard’ and whatnot.  
“Those people are stupid. They don’t know you. Don’t listen to them,” I whispered against his neck.  
He laughed humourlessly. “You don’t know me either. Not really.”  
Ouch, that hurt. “I know enough about you to tell that you are a good man, Geralt. And that you don’t deserve the shit the world throws at you. Am I wrong?”   
He pulled me out from behind him and sat me in front of him. He stared at me, almost menacingly. “Do I look like a good man to you, Nienna?” he pressed out through clenched teeth. Shit, maybe I hit a nerve.  
I reached out to touch his face, to softly stroke his cheek while his expression remained hard. “You look like a man who has been through hell, but you still believe in good. You save people who hate and fear you, expecting nothing from them in return. You could have killed me that day. Believed what the townsfolk told you and just killed me. But you didn’t. You gave me a chance to explain myself. More than that! You gave me a chance to escape from my old life and be free. You may think little of yourself, but Geralt, you are a good man!” I rambled. ‘And I love you’ I wanted to add, but his stare still hadn’t softened and I was growing slightly scared of the man sat in front of me.  
Just as I was about to let my hand fall from his cheek he covered it with his, pressing my small hand to his face with his big one, nuzzling into the touch. His other hand pulled me towards him by my waist.  
“You really think that?” he sounded almost like a little boy. My heart hurt at his insecure face, eyebrows knitted together and even the slightest beginning of a pout on his lips.   
As an answer I leaned up and kissed him, hoping it would tell him what I didn’t dare to say out loud: I love you.  
I know, falling in love with a witcher is about the stupidest thing one can do. And, we’ve only met a week ago, but within that time he had managed to make me fall head over heels for him. And to see him thinking so little of himself broke my heart.


	8. A Good Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is pure smut with a veeeryyy lil bit of fluff at the end.
> 
> enjoy :)  
> (or, uhh, skip if you don't like smut...)
> 
> btw this is the second smut scene i've ever written, so feedback would be nice and helpful :) thanks ahead

And he kissed back, tentatively at first, but the moving of our lips in sync restored his confidence, and soon he won our tongues’ battle for dominance as his fingers dug into my scalp and mine in his. The water suddenly felt cold on our heated skin and we broke the kiss to catch our breaths.  
“We should-“ I trailed off, panting, gesturing towards the bed.  
Without warning, Geralt stood, pulling me up with him, and carried me over to the bed. It took him three large strides across the room before he let me fall onto the bed. I bounced slightly. Then he was upon me again, between my opened legs, kissing my lips heatedly, holding me down by the waist with one hand, his other arm supporting his weight with his elbow.  
I was so lost in the kiss that I didn’t notice his hand leaving my waist and pulling my hands from his hair. Only when his iron grip pinned my hands over my head I felt it, the feeling of being completely at his mercy adding to my arousal. He was using one hand to hold me there, his other exploring my shivering body until he found what he was searching for. He grabbed my aching breast and massaged it eliciting small moans and gasps from me, muffled by his fervent kiss, at first. His lips left mine and he kissed, nipped and sucked his way from my jaw along my neck to my neglected breast, latching onto the rock hard nipple and sucking on it. All the while his fingers were twisting my other nipple almost painfully, but it felt so good.  
I’m sure I was dripping by now, the heat between my legs almost unbearable, but it was obvious that Geralt had other plans. He was teasing me, adding his teeth and scraping over my pebbled nipple. I cried out, not caring who may hear it, it all felt way too good to keep quiet. And the witcher was more than satisfied with the sounds he coaxed from me with only his mouth on my breast. I didn’t even read him to know that. The arrogant look on his face, as I weakly lifted my head to look at him, told me enough: he’d continue his teasing until I was a moaning, panting and writhing mess for him to take, and I shivered in excitement at that thought.  
“Stay!” he muttered an order, muffled by my breast still against his lips. My hazy brain didn’t know what he meant, but soon enough his iron grip loosened on my wrists and his hand left me as his lips travelled further down my body, towards where I needed him the most. And I obeyed. Not moving my hands even a fracture of an inch from where he had left them. He kissed down my stomach, his hands already pushing my thighs apart.  
“You know? We’ve been together for so long, the longest I’ve ever been with a woman, and I still haven’t tasted you. Why don’t we change that, mhh?” his husky voice and his warm breath against my exposed folds sent shivers down my spine. But honestly, I didn’t really know what he meant… all I knew about bedding, I had learned from him, all this week…  
But I learned fast. While I was a little lost in my confusion, he had run his tongue through my soaked folds. I jolted at that feeling, and moaned out loudly as he lapped and sucked on my nether lips.  
The by now all too familiar coil started to grow in my belly, and I started bucking my hips up involuntarily, only for them to be pushed down into the mattress by Geralt’s strong hands, which were definitely going to leave a bruise. I shuddered at the thought of being marked by him that way, making everybody see who I belonged to.  
I cried out when his lips encircled my throbbing and aching clit, the swiping of his tongue finally providing the desperately needed friction. A long finger slid into my dripping core with ease, finding that spot that made galaxies appear in front of my eyes and stroked it teasingly slow. He added another finger, but didn’t pick up the pace.  
I lifted my head to peer at him and shuddered at the sight. I had this mountain of a man nuzzling his head between my legs, staring up at me like a wolf stalking his prey. And a wolf he was. And I was in fact his prey, completely at his mercy.  
Finally he picked up the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of me and sucked harder on my swollen nub, as my face twisted to pure pleasure and I struggled to keep my head lifted so he could see me. But I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to see what he was able to do to me. And I knew he wanted to see me too. I was a mess; mouth hanging open, panting, without enough air entering my lungs to even moan, a thin layer of sweat making my writhing body glow golden in the fire-light.  
And then I came, with a pathetic wheeze of his name, his fingers working me through my orgasm. Panting I let my head fall back, weakly watching as Geralt crawled up my body.  
“Mhh. You, my lady, taste amazing. So much sweeter than human women,” he said in a low seductive growl as he licked his lips clean of my juices. I only lifted me hand lazily and pulled him down for a kiss at the nape of his neck. He gladly complied, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth and pushing his tongue into my mouth. I tasted myself on this tongue, causing me to moan as it lit the fire in me once again.  
Geralt crawled back between my legs, his unbelievably hard length laying against my thigh; hot, pulsing and ready. He must be aching by now. As I reached out to stroke him, he grabbed my hands again and pinned them to their place above my head. I fought a little against his iron grip, wanting to touch him so bad; to run my hands down his back and chest, to tangle my fingers in his hair, to bring him pleasure with my hand on his cock.  
But he wouldn’t let me, only chuckle above me. “Still a good man?” he teased. I only huffed.  
His hand was on my hip again, holding my still shaking body as he pushed into me. His fingers could have never prepared me for that, and even if we had fucked more than one time this week already, the stretch was still slightly painful. He was filling me completely, reaching every single spot that provided sweet pleasure.  
Once he bottomed out he leaned down to kiss me softly, then pulled out and slammed into me roughly. I gasped, the jolt causing my breasts to bounce, hypnotizing the man above me as he slammed into me over and over again, his pace getting faster and faster. He was rough and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My legs were wrapped around his waist and my back was arching off the bed. If he kept that up I knew I wouldn’t last long. He shifted a little and now he was hitting that one special spot dead on and I cried out clenching my inner walls around him, causing him to moan out loud. (Before he had only groaned quietly, so yeah, I was a little proud of myself to be able to get these sounds out of him.) The ponding into my sweet spot and his oh so sweet moan made the coil in my belly explode and I came with a yell of his name, panting and shaking, but he did not stop.  
He slowed down, yes, but he kept going riding me through my orgasm and further, seeming determined to make me cum as often as possible.  
I tugged against the restrains of his hand on my wrists. If he was going to fuck me senseless I wanted to grab him, feel him, touch him. And finally he let go. My hands shot up to his hair and the back of his neck, tangling my fingers into the long white strands and pulling him down for a heated kiss.  
He picked up the pace again, fucking me into the mattress, mercilessly. My moans and his groans where now muffled by our kiss, but the sound of wet skin on wet skin must’ve been audible beyond the door of our room.  
Completely unexpected Geralt pulled out of me and flipped me over onto my belly, pulling my bum up roughly by the hips. He slapped my exposed cheek once, before grabbing my hips again and slamming into me, hitting that sweet-spot even better than before. One of his hands travelled up my spine, the feather-light touch of his calloused fingertips made me shudder, as he fucked into me at a mind-numbing pace. His hand between my shoulder blades pushed me down and I moaned loudly. Behind me I heard him pant.  
“Yeah, you like to be manhandled like this, don’t you?” he barely managed to get out. He was close, so very close; I felt his cock twitch and pulse inside me, growing even harder. But he held back, wanting to make me cum one last time. His hand left from between my shoulders and found its way to my clit, rubbing circles matching his fervent thrusts. I wanted to moan, wanted to let him know how fucking good that felt, but I could barely catch my breath so I knelt there, face down on the pillows, wheezing pathetically as the witcher’s hip slammed into mine, his hips stuttering. I clenched my muscles around his length, involuntarily, and he stilled, shooting his cum deep into me with a loud moan of my name. The feeling of his warm seed filling me and the rubbing on my clit triggered my own orgasm and I screamed out my release.  
Geralt rode out both our orgasms lazily before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to me, panting, his chest heaving heavily. I remained in my position for a short while, unable to move as the bliss still coursed through my spent body. Once I was able to move I accepted Geralt’s outstretched arm and laid my head on his chest, right over his slow heartbeat. Well, it was slow for a human, while for him his heart was still pounding and he was still panting.  
For a while we were just laying there. I traced the scars on his chest while he was caressing my waist.  
“And? Do you still think I am a good man?” he asked in a rough whisper after what felt like hours.  
I lifted my head to smile at him, shifting a little closer to his face. “The best,” I whispered back, kissing his lips softly. He scoffed lightly.  
Well, here goes nothing. “Geralt?” my voice was barely audible now.  
“Hmm,” he hummed back with his eyes closed.  
“I love you.”


	9. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very very short and slight angst

My whisper was barely audible, even for me, who had said it. If he were human I knew he wouldn’t have heard it. But he wasn’t human. And he had heard me; the little hitch in his breath and the stopping of his hand on my waist was proof enough.  
I held my breath as I waited for another reaction, anxious, not daring to look at him. For a long time he was quiet. Then, “Nienna,” his voice sounded strained, sad and apologetic all at once, making my stomach turn. He was going to reject me. “We met a week ago. You barely know me.”  
“I know how I feel! And I know you. Every time I look into your eyes I can see your thoughts, if I want to or not.” Tears welled up in my eyes.  
To my confusion he was still holding me tight. I had expected him to throw me out of the room or something, but he remained calm, holding me in his arms. It made me nervous. What was going on in his head? I still didn’t dare to see for myself.  
“I know,” I croaked out around the lump forming in my throat, “that you were left behind as a little boy. I know that you fear the people getting close to you abandoning you sooner or later. I can understand why you push everyone away just to never get hurt.” I looked up at him. An almost pained expression sat on his face. “And, do you know why? I’ve been through similar shit too. I was also ripped from a peaceful life and into one filled with nothing but violence. I know what it feels like to be left all alone. I know you because were not so different.”  
His expression did not change, and he dropped his hand from my waist. I got off the bed.  
“I’m gonna sleep on the floor,” I announced, my voice dry.  
Making myself comfortable in front of the fireplace, wrapped into the blankets I took from home, I sobbed silently. My back was facing the witcher, but I was sure he could see the shaking of my shoulders and hear my rapid breath. I cried myself into a dreamless sleep.  
I woke up still wrapped into the blankets, but no longer in from of the fireplace. I was back in the bed, back in Geralt’s arms as he was spooning me. It was still dark outside, we had some time until we needed to leave the room, so I snuggled into the embrace of the man I loved.  
Yes, I still loved him, it wasn’t something I could switch off, but he would have some explaining to do once he woke up. Especially after getting me back on the bed after I told him that I wanted to sleep on the floor. But for now I was just enjoying his warmth and the safety of his strong arms.  
Not so much later he stirred, but didn’t move except for kissing my cheek softly, muttering a quiet “I’m sorry”. He must be thinking I was still asleep. So I pretended to wake up, stretching a little in his tight embrace, waiting for his reaction.  
He took a deep breath and loosened his grip a little, letting me get out of his arms if I wanted. But I didn’t want to leave his embrace; I only turned, facing him, my eyebrows knitted together to a hurt expression. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and stared talking.  
“I’m sorry, Nienna. I really am. This is not an excuse, I know that, but no one ever told me they loved me, and I didn’t know how to react. And you are right. I don’t let anyone get close to me. The last person I care about, I had to kill. I understand if you want to leave now.“ he looked so sad, it brought tears to my eyes. “I don’t know if I can love, but I know that I care about you. Deeply.”  
A mixture of sob and laugh escaped my throat. “I could never leave you. Ever since our first morning together I couldn’t.” I cupped his cheeks with my hands and kissed him softly. “I love you, Geralt. And if you’ll have me, we can find out if you’re able to.”  
The sun was rising now and I got out of bed, or at least planned to. The moment I tried to stand I fell back onto the bed, my leg feeling like jelly from the, ahem, rough treatment of last night. That caused the witcher to laugh, all tension that may have remained between us blown away. I shot him a glare, pretending to be mad. “Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, getting up himself and getting dressed, throwing me my clothes because I obviously couldn’t walk.  
Why did we think rough sex would be a good idea before walking for probably days?  
Once we were dressed and packed we left the inn, getting Roach out of the stable and leaving Flotsam all together.  
Walking was uncomfortable, but not impossible, so I bit my teeth together and walked next to Geralt. He had offered multiple times for me to ride on Roach, but seeing that I would have to sit on exactly the spot that was the sorest I thought that it wouldn’t be a good idea.


	10. Blood

We had been traveling the Continent together for a few years now, hunting monsters. Well, honestly, not really. The first few years Geralt refused to let me join him on hunts, claiming that I wasn’t trained enough.  
He trained me, though, and I was a quick learner. At first he trained me in sword-fighting, but soon enough we started practicing my magic in combat. It was exciting to discover what I was able to do – for both of us, really. Freezing time, creating barriers and pushing things out of my way with a simple flick of my wrist were only a mere scratch at the surface, but I concentrated on perfecting those abilities, as they were the most useful, even if I couldn’t use too much magic in battle, as it costs a lot of energy.  
And finally, after three years of training, Geralt let me join him on hunts. We were inseparable from that moment on, only leaving the other’s side if we had to split up for the job.  
And now, two years later, we found ourselves in Angren, in a little tavern in the mountains to be exact. People have been disappearing around here, the few that were to be found again looked horrible, deep claw and bite-marks littering their dead bodies and all of them were drained of blood. At first the people thought it was a wolf or bear, but a wild animal does not suck the blood from their victims, and soon enough the people called for a Witcher.  
We sat in the dimly lit room. The threat of the monster in the mountains keeping only little people away from going out at night; the tavern was packed. Much of the townsfolk had come here to report to the witcher, or to simply gawk at him. They had collected about two-thousand and five-hundred coins for slaying the beast.  
“All of them, scratched and bitten… they should have been laying in a pool of blood. But there was nothing, not one drop. Those poor lads, still so young,” the inn-keeper told us, his voice shaking like a young tree in a storm.  
“Wait, only young men?”  
The inn-keeper nodded.   
“Are there caves in the mountains?” I asked him, urgently, and he nodded again, his face growing pale at my sudden nervousness. “O-one.”  
Geralt turned to me. “You think…?” he trailed off.  
“Mh-mhh.” I nodded.  
“A bruxa. Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes.  
We, well I, thanked the inn-keeper and went to our room to discuss our tactics.  
“You’ll stay here, Nienna. Only this time. A bruxa is nothing to mess with,” Geralt commanded as soon as he closed the door.  
I whipped around to face him. “Wha- No. That’s all more reason to not let you go out there alone!”   
“Listen, I’ve killed bruxae before, I know what to do. You on the other hand… She’ll smell the trap.” He was almost yelling now.  
I knew he only wanted to keep me safe, but if a bruxa really was as dangerous as I’ve read and he told me, then I would not let him face the beast alone. This was no abandoned village we are talking about, but a cave somewhere in the mountains. If he got hurt he could die out there and no one would ever find him. So, yes, I’m coming with him, if he likes it or not.  
“I’ll come,” I said stubbornly calm, staring at him. a few minutes passed and he sighed in defeat.   
“Alright.”  
Now that this was settled we discussed our plan. Tomorrow we’d leave at noon, searching for the cave. Then, when it gets dark I’d be the bait, wandering around aimlessly. Geralt would slay her when she tries to attack me and we’d be done with it, hopefully before midnight.  
We went to bed early this evening, trying to get enough rest as possible before the hunt tomorrow. I must confess, I was a little nervous. I never had to play the bait, hell, we never needed a bait before.  
The morning arrived way too soon and we got dressed for the hunt. Geralt put on his usual armour, both his swords strapped to his back. I had gotten new clothes in the years I’ve been traveling with the witcher, dresses were, uh, just not really useful. So now I was slipping into a blouse, tight leather trousers and a corset, strapping my father’s to my hip and pushing my dagger into my boot.  
Once we were both done we left the room and the inn altogether. The people had gathered, waving us goodbye and wishing us luck. We’d need that.  
We wandered through the mountains for hours, Roach trotting behind us, but even she seemed to be on edge. Around late afternoon we finally found the cave. It was right next to the path, a small meadow stretching out between us and the home of the beast. Now was the time to put our plan into action.  
While I was preparing myself a little camp in the meadow, Geralt hid behind the rocks a little down the path, along with Roach.  
Not so long after sunset I heard a hissing sound coming from the cave. I was pretending to sleep now. The soft rustling of the tall grass ‘waking’ me up, I opened my eyes to see a beautiful woman approaching.   
“Child, are you lost? Here all alone,” she sang at me.  
“N-no, ma’am. Ju-just passing t-through,” I stuttered in fake nervousness, playing along with the role of the young girl she put me in.   
She came closer, not walking directly towards me, more like circling me. She was ready to pounce.  
“Mhh. Such a pretty young thing as you shouldn’t be a-“ she was interrupted by Roach whinnying softly. The bruxa’s head shot into the direction where the witcher was hiding, and to me. “But you are not alone, child,” she snarled, her pretty face deforming into an ugly grimace, large fangs poking out from under her upper lip. With a high pitched screech she jumped at me as I scrambled to my feet, clumsily unsheathing my sword in the process. But it was too late. She swung at me, her sharp claws catching me at my belly, ripping through the leather of my corset and into my flesh. I cried out in pain, the white hot feeling where her claws pierced my skin making me almost lose consciousness. She let me drop to the ground as I heard the dragging sound of a sword unsheathing. With a yell Geralt charged at the bruxa, forcing her away from me. I was clutching my wound, desperately trying to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding, all the while gasping for air almost pathetically. Only faintly I made out the sound of the fight, the whooshing of Geralt using Aard, the bruxa screeching as her body hits the ground and finally the squashing sound as Geralt’s sword impaled the bruxa.  
The witcher grunted and ran over to where I was laying. He fell to his knees, pressing one hand atop of my own, trying to stop the bleeding. His other hand went to my cheek, softly running his fingertips along my cheekbone, afraid that if he put even the slightest bit more force into the touch I would break.   
“I told you to stay behind,” he croaked out, his usually strong voice broken, “I could have done it without you. You were never supposed to get hurt.”  
I weakly reached my bloodied hand up to caress his cheek, his own grabbing it like it was an anchor, and pressing it to his face as I smiled weakly at him, my eyes beginning to fall close.   
“No!” I heard him yell, but it seemed far away. “Nienna! Nienna. Stay with me.” His voice broke down to a broken whisper. “D-don’t leave me, Nienna. I-I love y-you.”   
And then everything went black. I didn’t feel how he freed me of my corset, how he ripped his cloak apart, bandaging my belly with the fabric and securing it with my belt, pulling it impossibly tight so that I would bleed out. I didn’t feel how he rode through the night, clutching onto my limp body, making it to the tavern in less than an hour. And I didn’t feel how he laid me down on the bed in our room, taking care of my wounds.


	11. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another short one.  
> buuuuut in the next (or the one after that) they'll finally meet jaskier. yaayy
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

The next thing I did feel, though, was a pounding headache and a dull pain in my abdomen. Groaning softly I opened my eyes to find myself back at the inn. It was dark outside. I heard a soft snoring from next to me and looked down at a dishevelled mob of silvery-white hair. Geralt was resting his head in the crook of my elbow, both his large hands clutching my small one. He was sleeping. And I wanted to let him sleep, but a sharp pain in my belly caused me to flinch, waking the golden eyed man, and immediately his hands shot to my face, cradling it softly.   
“Thank the gods you’re awake,” his voice was hoarse, “I… I feared you wouldn’t wake up. Y-you… she…”  
“Shh,” I silenced him softly, putting my hands over his. “But here I am. I won’t go anywhere.”  
He softly kissed my forehead and sat up slightly.  
“You’ve been sleeping for three days. I was worried. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he informed me, his voice quiet.  
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve been chewed up and spit out,” I tried to chuckle, to ease his worry a little. Big mistake! A sharp pain ripped through my belly, making me wince.  
“You have to rest,” Geralt said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “And to drink.”  
Oh gods, yes, water. Only now I realized how dry my throat was, and the pounding headache came back with full force.  
Reading the pained expression on my face, he shot up and went to get a pitcher of water. Once he returned he held the cup to my lips, lifting my head a little. I gulped the cool liquid down greedily, cup after cup, until finally the dryness in my throat disappeared. And for the headache…  
“In my bag is a bottle with rosemary oil,” I croaked out and Geralt immediately understood, digging through my bag until he found the correct bottle, letting a few drops fall into a bowl with water and soaking a cloth with the liquid. He applied the compress to my forehead and I sighed, instantly feeling a little relief from the pounding in my head.  
Geralt also changed the bandages on my abdomen and for the first time I saw the wound stretching out on my skin. Three dark red, angry lined ran across my pale skin. They were deep, not deep enough to be instantly lethal – as we could see – but close, simply bandaging wouldn’t help.  
As Geralt went to cover the wound with a cloth I stopped him. Upon his questioning glance I told him, “It needs to be sewn shut. It won’t heal if we just bandage it.”  
“I saw a healer around. I’ll get him.” he didn’t leave any time for me to protest, he only stormed out the room, leaving me behind, smiling as I remembered the last words he said to me before I passed out: ‘I love you’.  
I fell asleep, my still weak body feeling exhausted after the conversation. Not long after I was woken up by two pairs of footsteps entering the room. Geralt had found the healer.  
“My lady,” he greeted upon seeing me awake. I nodded weakly in reply. He inspected the wound on my abdomen. “You are lucky that your friend reacted so fast. You could have died,” the healer remarked as he prepared the needle, holding it into the flame of a candle to sterilize it.   
Geralt had taken a seat on the bed, giving the healer space to work, holding my hand reassuringly.  
“This will hurt,” informed the healer.  
I just looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “More than it already does? I don’t think so,” I scoffed. But I was proven wrong. The first few stiches weren’t that bad, but the longer it continued the more was I clutching on to Geralt’s hand, so hard my knuckles turned white. By the time the healer had stitched up the first two gashes I was biting my lip to prevent me from screaming, tasting blood and tears were forming in my eyes, spilling as I shut my eyes tightly and running down towards my temples.  
The healer finished sewing the wounds, applied a soothing salve and bandaged them as I lay on the bed, panting from the pain. Geralt paid and thanked him, and then he was gone and Geralt returned to bed, laying down next to me. I turned my head to look at him, only to see that he was already facing me, laying on his side.  
“I will never forgive myself to have put you in such danger,” he mumbled after a while.  
“No,” I breathed, “it was my fault, I should have reacted quicker.” I paused, smirking playfully. “If someone is to blame, it’s Roach. If she had been quiet-“ but I was interrupted by the smiling witcher. “You’re on thin fucking ice,” he warned and I giggled, regretting it instantly as a sharp pain shot through my belly yet again. But it disappeared as fast as it came and I smiled at the man next to me, when I was suddenly overcame with the urge to yawn. As if I hadn’t slept enough in the last few days.  
“Goodnight, meleth,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I did not expect Geralt to know what meleth meant, but I’ve been dying to call him that for the last five years.  
“Goodnight, my love,” came his murmured reply. He knew. Smiling I fell asleep.


	12. The Devil of Posada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long one this time.
> 
> enjoy :)

It took about a week for me to heal enough to use magic again. Once I was strong enough I brewed myself a potion that would shorten the healing process and within another week all that was left from the bruxa attack were three thin white lines across my abdomen.  
We continued traveling, Geralt and I, slowly making our way north, stopping in every village and staying there for at least a few weeks. Monsters weren’t rare south of my old home, so Geralt had plenty of jobs. After the accident with the bruxa Geralt was hesitant to let me join him on hunts, only letting me come with him when the monster wasn’t that dangerous or when he really needed back-up. So I would often stay behind, sometimes selling potions or assisting the local healers.  
We earned good coin, enough to buy a horse of my own. The mare was dark grey. Shadow, I called her. She was sassy, much like Roach, and stubborn, but still friendly and well-behaved, or at least did she obey me. I loved her the moment she nuzzled her snout against my hand.  
After two years we came to Dol Blathanna, or Posada as the humans called it now. On one hand I was happy to be back, to see the beautiful landscape again where I grew up. On the other hand, though, I was filled with sadness. Everyone I knew, everyone who lived here was dead, killed by the humans. Part of me was also angry, but only few of the humans who took part in the Great Cleansing were still alive. I couldn’t be angry at humans who had nothing to do with the murder of my friends and family; it wasn’t their fault.  
At the end I was glad to be back. Seeing the soft hills, the rich green plants and the deep valleys again, together with the man I loved was worth it. Oh, and how I loved him. Ever since he confessed to me, not a day passed without us telling the other we loved them. When we were alone the usually so cold witcher couldn’t stop smiling, warming my heart every time I saw him. When we were resting he would lay his head in my lap, letting me run my fingers through his silvery locks while I hummed to him softly. And when men in bars flirted with me, not knowing I was with the witcher, he would get all protective; one or two times he even pulled his sword at whoever had hit on me. I would only laugh and put my hand on his chest to calm him down, whispering to him softly that I belonged to him, and only him. And then later when we went up to our room in the inn I would show him how exactly. I loved it when he was all possessive, marking me for everyone to see: I was with the witcher.  
Now he was seated in a tavern in Posada, at a table in the corner while I was leaning against the bar. As I was the only woman in there wearing trousers and a sword, the people knew I was with the witcher. We had discovered recently that some people were hesitant to approach Geralt. He, uh, seemed just like the kind of person you would be smart to fear – while I knew that in reality he was a sweetheart, sure he was a witcher, trained to kill, but that didn’t mean he was dangerous. I on the other hand seemed far more approachable to the townsfolk. They would come to me, tell me what was causing them trouble and I would go to Geralt, tell him what the person just told me, while they were fumbling with their coin-purse, shaking at the sight of the Witcher.  
But today was different. No one came up to me or Geralt. A bard was performing in the tavern, strumming his lute and singing. I watched him, amused.   
“You think you’re safe,  
Without a care.  
But here in Posada  
You’d be wise to beware.  
The pike with the spike  
That lurks in your drawers,  
Or the flying drake that will fill you with horror.  
Need old Nan the Hag  
To stir up a potion  
So that your lady may get an abortion”  
Well, the townsfolk in the tavern didn’t enjoy the young bard’s performance as much as I did.  
“Abort yourself,” yelled one man, throwing his food at the bard.   
“Oh, oi,” the bard uttered. And to the ‘shut up’-calls he replied “Stop! Fuck off! I’m so glad that I could bring you all together like this. Unbelievable.”  
I watched chuckling quietly to myself as the young bard went over to the corner of the room, packing his lute away and picking up the bread the people had thrown at him, shoving it – into his pants?!  
That was when he spotted Geralt sitting in another corner of the room and walked up to him, leaning against a wooden beam. I followed him, standing almost directly behind him, but he didn’t notice me.  
"I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood," the bard spoke up.  
"I'm here to drink alone," the witcher muttered, moving his head away from the bard ever so slightly and towards the window, deliberately not mentioning my presence, but he was sensing me standing behind the young man.  
"Good. Yeah, good." The bard showed no intention to leave. "No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except..." he continued, walking around the table to stand in front of the obviously annoyed witcher, "for you. Come on. You don't want to keep a man with... bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less," the bard urged, sitting down.  
I took his spot leaning against the beam, supressing a giggle. How come he didn’t notice me?   
"They don't exist," the white-haired man deadpanned.  
This seemingly wasn't enough of an answer for the young bard. After a second of confusion he asked, "What don't exist?" dragging out the 'what'.  
"The creatures in your song," replied Geralt, becoming more annoyed by the second.   
The bard most certainly had no idea who he was talking to. "And how would you know?" he asked cockily.  
Geralt didn't answer. He was more than annoyed and kept just staring at the young bard, tilting his head to the side slightly like a quiet 'dude, are you blind?'.  
Watching the scene was the most fun I had in a while – well outside the bedroom –, and I had to collect all my strength to not burst out laughing.   
Just then realization dawned on the bards face. "Oh, fun. White hair, big old loner, two very, very scary looking swords," he said, rubbing his palms together.   
Geralt obviously had enough. He got up and left a few coins on the table.   
"I know who you are," the witcher left the table and I followed him, the bard following us. "You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia." And after a short break he called out "Called it."  
A man stood up from the table, calling behind the witcher. “A job I’ve got for ya. I beg you.”  
Geralt stopped, but I walked past him. “I’ll get the horses ready,” I mumbled to him and walked out the door, leaving the witcher to bargain with the man.  
He came up behind me once I had unknotted the horses from the pole, a filled coin-purse in hand. I raised my eyebrow at him.  
“They say it’s a devil. Stealing from them,” he answered my silent question. “Come on, you know the area. Go ahead.”  
I laughed. “So you can stare at my bum?” I joked.  
“That’s only a positive side effect,” he smirked.  
“Ugh, men. They’re all the same.” I rolled my eyes playfully at him, stepping a little closer to give him a quick kiss before leading the way towards the mountains.  
It wasn’t long before I heard the shuffling of another pair of feet on the dry dirt-road. The bard was following us.  
"Need a hand? I got two. One for -ah- each of the devil's horns." he panted from running after us.  
"Go away," said the witcher, annoyed yet again.  
I snickered quietly before turning around and walking backwards, watching the two men.  
"I won't be but silent back-up," promised the bard. A promise that he didn’t intent to keep.  
Silence.  
"Look, I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories. And you, sir, smell chock-full of them. Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? That onion?" he rambled on.  
Well, sorry, but onion is one of the few spices available in the wild...  
"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak."   
"It's onion," the grumpy man replied. By now I was full on laughing at the two of them. Geralt shot me a glare, wanting me to stop, but it had the opposite effect.  
"Right, yeah. Yeah," the bard muttered. "Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the- the Butcher of Blaviken."  
Oh uh, Geralt didn't like being called that. The guilt still weighed heavy on him.  
He stopped and turned around to face the bard. "Come here," he said, pointing at the young man.  
"Yeah?" answered the young man, unsure about what was to come.   
I knew what was coming, though, and I already felt bad for the poor boy. How old was he? No older than 18, for sure.   
He stepped closer to the witcher and was immediately thrown on the ground by Geralt punching him in the stomach. He groaned and wheezed, looking up at me, silently asking me why I hadn't warned him. I just smiled and shrugged at him, leading the witcher down the road, but slower now. I wanted to keep the bard around.  
We’ve been walking for a while now. By now we had mounted our horses, the bard still following us. And it looked like we wouldn't lose him any time soon. Good; the interaction between the annoyed witcher and the cheerful bard was pure comedy, at least for me.  
"Reading between the lines and the gut punches, chum, I'd say you have a bit of a... an image problem." noted the bard after quietly following us for a while. "Were I to join you on this... feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could relieve you of that title," he offered, waving his hands through the air like a poet reciting his latest poem to his beloved. "All the north would be too busy singing the tales of... Geralt of Rivia, the- the White Wolf or-or something."   
To be honest, we could use a change of the witcher's image. A hero would certainly earn more coin than the Butcher of Blaviken.  
"Butcher is right," Geralt stated, not wanting to admit that the young bard was right.  
Now that we were both riding our horses it was hard for the bard to keep up with our pace. "Mind if I hop up there with you? It's just, I'm not really wearing the right kind of footwear," the young man asked, already making an attempt to climb up on Roach's back.   
"Don't touch Roach," the witcher threatened, interrupting has action.   
"Yeah, right, yeah," the bard mumbled, walking a little faster to look at me. "Maybe the lady would be so nice t-" I interrupted him. "Don't even think about in, lad."  
Just then Geralt stopped and jumped off Roach, making the young man step out of the witcher’s way and cling on to the strap of his lute, which he was carrying on his back.  
While the witcher tied Roach's reins to a tree and I jumped off Shadow to do the same, the bard filled us in with the history of the area, which I already knew.  
"The elves called this Dol Blathanna before bequeathing it to the humans and retreating into their golden palaces in the mountains. There I go again, just... delivering exposition," he said the last part more to himself.   
So this was what humans told their children? That the elves just left, leaving their homes for the humans to take? That there was no slaughtering?  
Geralt lead the way, walking off the road into the wilderness, through two rocks that were almost forming a gate. I followed behind him, as did the bard.  
“Geralt?” he asked, “Wh-where are you going? Geralt, don’t leave me.”  
The witcher stood, peeking around a rock, making sure the coast was clear before stepping into the open space.  
“Hello? What are we looking for again?” The bard just wouldn’t shut up, would he?  
“Blessed silence,” replied Geralt.  
“Yeah, I don’t really go in for that,” mumbled the bard.   
I turned to him. “Well, you should. Do you have an idea how dangerous distraction is on a hunt?!” I chided at him, but he ignored me.  
“Have you ever hunted a devil before?” he continued questioning the witcher.  
“Devils don’t exist,” muttered the visibly annoyed man.  
“Right. Obviously. Then, uh, then what are we doing?”   
“Sometimes there’s monsters, sometimes there’s money. Rarely both. That’s the life,” explained the witcher.  
I felt another presence as Geralt was searching the bushes. Suddenly there was a hissing sound in the air, then a thud.  
“Shit!” Geralt exclaimed, angry now. Whatever it was, it had hit him.  
The bard on the other hand seemed excited. “Act two begins!” he yelled.  
Geralt bowed down to pick up whatever had hit him.   
“What was that? Looks like a tiny cannonball from a…” the bard inspected. Then he spotted something and I followed his gaze. “Oh my gosh,” he whispered. In the bushes hid a horned creature, watching every of our moves. I looked over to where Geralt was standing; the projectile had hit him on his forehead, leaving a small wound. It wouldn’t need to be stitched.   
“Geralt… it is a devil.” No one dare to say anything. Well, except of the bard. He seemed way too excited. “Ohh, I have to see this magical, this mythi-“ he was interrupted by a projectile hitting him in the temple.  
Unconscious he fell to the ground. I rushed to his side, inspecting the damage while the witcher pushed the bushes away, looking for the creature. With a yell it burst from the bushes.  
“Leave me be!” it yelled as it ran head first at the witcher, hitting him in the chest and throwing him back a good six feet. Immediately he was on his feet again, anger written across his face.   
“You talk,” he grunted. The creature charged at Geralt with another yell, but he gripped its horns and swung him around, throwing him to the ground.  
I watched from my position next to the bard, whispering chants in elven, hoping it would wake him.  
“Of course I talk!” yelled the creature as the witcher knelt down above him.  
“What happened with you? Your mother fuck a goat?” Geralt mocked, so sure of his victory.  
“I am Torque the Sylvan, a rare and intelligent creature!” the ‘devil’ yelled back.  
“You’re a dick. With balls.”  
“Balls I got from humans, who left out food filled with iron meant to poison me!” He yanked at a stand of the witcher’s hair, ripping it out, earning a pained grunt. “Did your mother fuck a snowman?”  
From where I was kneeling I couldn’t see Geralt’s face, but I know that his expression was everything but friendly at that comment. My suspicions were proven correct when I saw him punching the sylvan in the nose.  
“You are intelligent. I’ll give you that. So I won’t kill you, but you can’t stay here,” he finally said, his voice calmer now.  
But I was on edge. I felt a group approaching.   
“Neither can you,” I heard the sylvan say.  
I looked up just in time to see a hooded figure kick Geralt in the face, knocking him out cold.  
I stood up and drew my sword as the figure approached me next. I was about to swing at the figure when my arm was blocked by another person. I was pushed back hard against the rock behind me, hitting my head against the hard surface. Unconscious I dropped to the ground next to the bard.


	13. O' Valley of Plenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another long one
> 
> enjoy :)

I woke up to shouting. My head hurt as I opened my eyes. I was in a cave. And I was tied up, laying on my side. A sudden movement caught my eye. It was Geralt. He had woken up and lifted his head, eyes darting around the room, alarmed. He grunted, fighting against his restrains.  
“This is the part where we escape.” The bard had woken up.  
“This is the part where they kill us,” grunted the witcher through gritted teeth.  
“Who’s they?” asked the bard.  
Just then an elf woman came into the room, kicking the bard in the face.  
“Beast!” she yelled at him in Elder.   
I… I recognized her face. But I couldn’t remember her name…   
“Elves,” Geralt grunted.  
Another elf entered the room, grabbing the bard’s lute.  
“Oi, that’s my lute. Give it back.”  
But the elf didn’t listen. Instead he started plucking some strings. It sounded awful.  
“Quick, Geralt. Do your-your witchering-“ the bard complained.  
“Shut up,” the witcher commanded as he was kicked by the woman. He groaned.  
“You shut up!” she spat at him in Elder.  
“My Elder speech is rough. I only got part of that,” muttered the bard.  
“Humans, shut up,” she said, now finally in common speech.  
Now the bard was speaking Elder. “Ah, got it, thank you so much.”  
“Do you wanna die right now?” the elf woman threatened.  
“As opposed to later?” Geralt grunted.  
She kicked the young man in the stomach just as he was yelling at the other elf. “No, please, not the lu-“  
“Leave off! He’s just a bard.”   
This caused the woman’s attention and she went over to Geralt, slapping his face.   
“You don’t deserve the air you breathe.” A hit. “Everything you touch you destroy.” Another punch. She grabbed the witcher by the hair and kneed him into the face. Groaning he let his head fall.   
All the while the other elf was breaking apart the bard’s lute.  
“Leave them alone!” I finally spoke up, “They’ve done nothing wrong!”  
The woman walked over to me. “Traitors don’t get to speak,” she spat, sitting me up roughly by the hair and punching me in the lip. I tasted blood.  
“I didn’t betray you! I would have died by your side! My father got me out!” I yelled at her. She kicked me in the stomach and I groaned. She would have done more if it hadn’t been for the bard speaking up.  
“You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man too scared to even look him in the eye!” he yelled.  
In front of me Geralt lifted his head. Blood was dripping from his lips.  
“Do you like my palace? Hmm?” the woman said. She made her way back to Geralt, lifting his face by his chin. “Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?”  
Geralt took the proximity of her face and head-butted her in the nose. She fell back, coughing.  
The bard laughed out loud. “Yeah, take that, pointy,” he mocked. But when she didn’t stop coughing he grew concerned. “Wait, what’s-what’s wrong with her?”  
Another elf entered the room, along with the sylvan.  
“She’s sick,” hissed the elf. I knew that voice!  
“Oh, and who’s this?” asked the bard.  
Torque spoke up while the other elf dropped to his knees next to the woman, helping her drink from a waterskin. “He’s Filavandrel, King of the Elves.”  
I knew him. He’s always been a leader. He was a few decades older than me, always breaking up fights between the younger elves. At least that was the Filavandrel I knew. I often wondered if he survived, now I knew.  
“Not a king. Not by choice,” he spoke.  
“You were stealing for them,” said Geralt, his voice cold.  
“I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna,” the sylvan defended himself.  
“Forced out? No, they chose-“ the bard uttered.  
Filavandrel rose to his feel. “Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a sylvan steal for them?” he spat.  
“Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt,” Torque chided the elf woman.  
“What’s two humans and a traitor in the ground when countless of elves have died?” she muttered.  
“I’m not a traitor!” I spat back at her.  
“One human,” Geralt corrected her, “And you can let him go.”  
“Then Posada will learn that we’ve been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die… on both sides,” Filavandrel spoke, walking to stand in front of the witcher, his back turned towards me.  
“The lesser evil,” Geralt noted. “No matter what you choose, you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me.”  
“That’s the problem. I can’t. This is necessary.”  
“I understand. As long as you understand… that it won’t be long until you follow me in death.”  
“Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic.”  
“Chaos is the same it’s always been. Humans just adapted better.”  
“You say adapt, and I say destroy.”  
“You are choosing to starve. You’re cutting off your ear to spite your face.”  
“You think this is about pride?” the king spat. “My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back they were slaughtered.”  
Tears shot into my eyes as I remembered the days of hiding and running and finally the massacre. As my mind showed me the picture of my mother’s lifeless body laying in a pool of her own blood, I couldn’t supress the sob, tears spilling from my eyes.  
“’The Great Cleansing,’ humans call it. I call it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow… our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I’m Filavandrel from the edge of the world. If I bring my people down from these mountains it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They’ll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children,”  
“Then go somewhere else,” the witcher finally spoke up, ”Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be.”  
Well, that worked perfectly in my case… not!  
“Like you, Witcher?” Filavandrel questioned.  
“I have learned to live with them. So that I may live. And so has the girl you wrongly call a traitor,” Geralt spoke.  
Toruviel climbed to her feet again. “Please, my King. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight!” she chimed in. “Let us take back what’s ours. Starting now.”  
I couldn’t see what was going on, the king still blocking my view, but I heard the dragging sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath.  
“Wait!” the sylvan jumped to the elf’s side, grabbing his arm.  
“Torque, stand aside!” the king commanded, ripping his arm out of the sylvan’s grip.  
“The witcher could’ve killed me. But he didn’t. He’s different. Like us.”  
He was pushed back.  
“If you must kill me… I am ready. But the sylvan’s right. Don’t call me human.”  
Filavandrel walked around the witcher, standing next to him, raising his blade. I watched in horror as Geralt shot me one last apologetic glance, before lifting his head, exposing his throat for the king to cut. And he lowered the blade, the cold metal touching Geralt’s vulnerable skin.  
I was struggling against the restrains, tears streaming down my face. Part of them were still from grieving for the people I lost during the Great Cleansing, but a larger part now was from fear of losing the man that I loved.  
“No.” I sobbed. “Please, don’t do this. Filavandrel, I know you! This isn’t you!” That caused the king to halt. He turned towards me, fully noticing my presence for the first time.  
“And who are you?” he spat at me.  
“I’m Nienna. Daughter of Líriel.”  
“She’s that Witcher bastard, my King,” spat Toruviel.  
“Quiet!” the king ordered.  
“Please, I promise no one will know about this. Just-just let us live,” I pleaded with him.  
“And why would I trust you?” he asked coldly.  
“Because I grew up here. I too lost people in that massacre. My mother!” I argued, and with a glance at Toruviel I added, “ I would never betray my blood!”  
Filavandrel seemed to be considering my words, then he lifted his blade again. I was about to cry out for Geralt when the elf cut through the rope tying the witcher’s hand together. Then the bard’s. he stepped in front of me, hesitating, then finally freeing me from my restrains and offering me a hand to stand up. I accepted.   
Once I stood he spoke up again, “Nienna, you are free to stay here, you can come home… if you want.”  
I smiled gratefully at him and glanced over his shoulder catching Geralt’s almost pained expression. “That is a truly generous offer, my King, but I fear I cannot accept it. My place is somewhere else.”   
And with that I bowed my head and walked over to Geralt, inspecting the damage of his face. Next to us the bard was softly weeping over his broken lute.   
“You don’t happen to have a spare one laying around do you?” I whispered to the elven king. He nodded and disappeared. Few minutes later he came back, carrying a lute and handing it to the young bard. “For your silence,” he told the bard, not really trusting him.  
“I will make sure of it,” I muttered towards the king, eyeing the bard, before laughing at the scared look on his face.  
The elves led us outside.  
“Farewell,” said Filavandrel. We all bowed our head at the king.  
“Goodbye,” I spoke, ”be save, my King.”  
Then we turned and left, making our way back to where we were abducted to get our horses. Geralt was unusually touchy the whole way, holding my hand and ignoring the bard, well, mostly at least.  
“So, what’s the deal with the two of you?” the young bard asked after having watched us for a while.  
“Why would you care?” came the witcher’s grumbled response.   
I shot him a look and squeezed his hand in disapproval. “Geralt,” I hissed. Then I turned my attention to the bard. “We are together.”  
The young man looked confused. Surely he must have been convinced that witcher’s don’t have feelings, like the old, and by the way absolute bullshit tales suggest. “Uhh, like together together?” he asked. I only nodded.  
“A-and your father was also a witcher?” he continued.  
I smiled. This bard was curious. “Yes, and before you ask, my mother was an elf. She was killed during the Great Cleansing. My father got me out and brought me to a town, telling me to keep my origins hidden. The townsfolk found out somehow and they called upon Geralt to kill me, claiming I was a witch, poisoning their children. Geralt refused to kill me and asked me to travel with him. And here we are,” I concluded the short-version of my life while the bard stared at me.   
“Gods, how old are you?” he asked, his mouth hanging open slightly.  
I laughed a little. “One hundred twenty seven.”  
We walked the rest in silence until we came to our horses. We untied them and mounted, making our way into the mountains.  
After a while the bard spoke up again, "Credit where credit is due. That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way," he imitated Geralt. "'Kill me. I'm ready,'" after a moment of silence, in which the witcher turned towards the young man, annoyed, he added. "That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."  
"Filavandrel's lute not gift enough for you?" the witcher asked, not looking at the bard.  
"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she?" the bard responded, walking with a swagger. "I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again. Be reborn," he added, his tone becoming more serious. It was the first time I heard the bard serious. Then he started singing.

"'Will the elf king heed  
What the witcher entreats?  
Is histoy a wheel  
Doomed to repeat?'  
No, that's... that's shit." he commented on his own song.  
Reaching a fork in the road Geralt spoke up. "This is where we part ways, bard, for good." Part of me wanted the young man to stay us, he was funny and optimistic, the exact opposite of Geralt.  
"Look. I promised to change the public's tune about you. At least allow me to try." the young man offered, already strumming his lute.

"When a humble bard  
Graced a ride along  
With Geralt of Rivia  
Along came this song

From when the White Wolf fought  
A silver-tongued devil  
His army of elves  
At his hooves did they revel

They came after me  
With masterful deceit  
Broke down my lute  
And they kicked in my teeth

While the devil's horns  
Minced our tender meat  
And so cried the Witcher  
He can't be bleat-"

"That's not how it happened," interrupted the witcher. "Where's your newfound respect?"  
"Respect doesn't make history," the bard simply stated and continued singing.  
"Toss a coin to your Witcher  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Oh, valley of plenty, oh  
Toss a coin to your Witcher  
Oh, valley of plenty" 

Geralt just sighed in disguised defeat and urged Roach to start moving again, as I did with Shadow, following the bard. Maybe this bard could really change the witcher's reputation and help us earn more money for our jobs, so we could stop living from job to job, not worry about money.  
"At the edge of the world  
Fight the mighty horde  
That bashes and breaks you  
And bring you the morn, oh

He thrust every elf  
Far back on the shelf  
High up on the mountain  
From whence it came

He wiped out your pest  
Got kicked in his chest  
He's a friend of humanity  
So give him the rest

That's my epic tale  
Our champion prevailed  
Defeated the villain  
Now pour him some ale

Toss a coin to your Witcher  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Oh, valley of plenty, oh  
Toss a coin to your Witcher  
A friend of humanity

Toss a coin to your Witcher  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Toss a coin to your Witcher  
A friend of humanity

Toss a coin to you Witcher  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Oh, valley of plenty  
Toss a coin to your Witcher  
A friend of humanity"

He continued to follow us, all the way to the next town where we slept in the inn.


	14. Scars

And it didn’t remain by just one town. The bard followed for weeks. Quiet couple-time was rare now for me and Geralt, the bard never really left us alone, but still, I kind of liked the bard’s company. He was so young, light-hearted and naïve when it came to topics of the world that the witcher and me were living in. and I noticed that Geralt liked the bard’s presence as well. Sure, he would never admit it, but I knew him better than anyone else, and I saw it in every of the witcher’s actions. He could get rid of the young man easily, tell him to leave us alone, using that special commanding voice, booming and intimidating; or he could hurt or kill the bard. Not that he would do that, but if he really wanted the bard to leave us it would be the most reliable way…   
But Geralt never made an attempt to do any of the above. Honestly, I guess it was mostly because of that stupid – and for my part as half-elf also insulting – song. Every time we entered a tavern the bard would sing it, and miraculously the townsfolk would sing along and actually toss their witcher some coins. It was a nice addition to the – in this part of the Continent – weak bounty we got for our services. But the song helped.  
And for sure, one song wasn’t enough for the bard. One night Geralt was sitting in the bathtub in our room at the inn we were currently staying and I was washing his hair, getting rid of all the dirt and blood that had accumulated during the weeks we spent in the wilderness, when the door burst open, showing the young man.  
“Oh for fucks sake,” I heard the witcher grumble quietly. My hands were still buried in his hair, massaging his scalp and his eyes were closed, but he felt the presence we both had grown accustomed to enter the room.  
“Hey, uh, Geralt, how did the-“ the bard said as he entered the room, not yet having spotted us in the secluded corner of the room the tub was sitting in. He was walking in our direction though. “hunt go…” he was dragging out the ‘hunt’ finally spotting Geralt in all his naked glory, the water doing little to hide what was underneath its surface. “Oh, ho ho ho. Wow.”  
“Bard, would it be too much to ask you to leave?” the witcher’s annoyed voice sounded through the room. “I was planning to spend this night with my lady, and only her, for the first time in weeks.”  
“Ohh, no, no. I’m not going anywhere! Not until you tell me about those scars of yours.”  
With a huff Geralt sat up, knowing that there was nothing he could do to get rid of the bard now – well, at least nothing that wouldn’t fill him with guilt afterwards. I washed my hands clean of the soap and dirt before reaching for a basin to wash the suds out of my lover’s hair. He spluttered when I dumped the water over his head and I giggled quietly. Even for his fine senses he hadn’t seen that coming? Once all soap was washed from his hair he got out of the tub and dried off, all while the bard watched.  
I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t blame you, Bard. I reacted the same at first. But leave the man a little privacy. Gods!” I more or less laughed out.  
“Oh, uh, so-sorry,” the young man stuttered as he turned around, leaving the witcher enough privacy to tie a dry towel around his waist and walk over to sit in front of the fire to dry his hair. I sat behind him, massaging his tense muscles. It had become a habit of mine, showing this man the love he deserved, even though nothing I could ever do would be enough. He was way too good for this cruel world. A quiet groan left his lips when I loosened a knot in his muscles, the tangled iron wires beneath his skin slowly relaxing under my fingers. I kissed his temple and whispered into his ear, “The sooner you start telling him everything he wants to know, the sooner he’ll leave.”  
He only sighed, opening his eyes to look at the bard, who was still standing where he stopped in front of the tub, watching mildly confused as Geralt more or less melted into my touch; the man he met as a warrior now almost vulnerable.   
“Sit,” the witcher directed and almost immediately the bard fell to the floor, sitting down criss cross opposite of Geralt and I. then it was silent for a while, the only sound being heard was the soft crackling of the fire. Or it was for human ears. For Geralt and me, we could hear the heartbeat and breathing of each of us.   
“Uhh?” the bard breathed.  
Geralt took a deep breath, preparing to start, but I beat him to that. “First, we want a name. You’ve been tagging along for weeks and we still don’t know your name.”   
A grin stretched along the bard’s face, thinking he was now finally accepted to the company – well, and in a way he was. “It’s Jaskier,” he said proudly, “now, spill it, Witcher!”  
“Hm,” Geralt grunted. “See this one?” he pointed to a scar that stretched all over his right shoulder. “A fucking alghoul. And this,” his hand moved a little lower to his chest, “A vampire. Almost got the better of me, that bitch. And this one,” he moved a little lower to a scar that wasn’t as old. “Bruxa.” He never told me that he too had gotten injured on that damned job. His hand moved lower to his ribs to an especially aged scar. “That one was a kikimora.” That continued for a good hour, and Geralt still had more scars that he hid from the bard.  
Once the witcher went silent Jaskier piped up, “Ohh, you will not regret this, Geralt.”  
“I already do.” But the bard ignored that comment. “I’ll write songs about your feats. It’ll make you famous! The heroic White Wolf!”  
Geralt rolled his eyes and I patted his shoulder gently. “Whatever brings us more coin,” I whispered into his ear. He sighed, defeated.   
“Can you leave now, Bard? I’d really like to spend some time with my lady now. Alone,” he then spoke, raising an eyebrow.  
“O-oh, ye-yeah. Sure,” Jaskier stammered, walking towards the door and opening it. I got up from behind the witcher and followed the bard, holding onto the door as he stepped out.   
“Goodnight, Geralt,” he called out past me, then he turned to me, “Goodnight, Nienna.” I smiled. “Goodnight, Jaskier. But next time, knock. Got it?” I raised my eyebrow at the last bit.  
Slightly blushing from what I was suggesting he nodded and walked down the hallway towards his own room. I closed the door and once it clicked shut I felt a pair of hands on my hips from behind me and still slightly damp hair tickle the exposed skin of my neck.  
“Mhh. I’ve waited so long to do this,” Geralt muttered against my skin as he softly kissed right where my pulse was, now fluttering from his promise. “Curse that bard for never leaving us alone.”   
I enjoyed his lips exploring my neck for a while, but when he moved to push me against the door, I turned and pushed him away only slightly. His expression grew questioning. I rarely denied him. I was usually just as hungry for him as he was for me, sometimes more even.  
“I’m dirty,” I attempted to explain, “And tired. I just want to bathe and then sleep,” I said tiredly. By now it must be way after midnight. Geralt had left at sunset for his hunt and came back hours later. I had stayed up, waiting for him and preparing his bath. The bath took a while and so did the bard’s questioning. And don’t get me started on the days on the road before that. To put it short, I was exhausted.  
Geralt stood a while capturing my tired eyes with his amber ones, the love in them comforting like warm honey, making my heart melt. I was so lost in his gaze that I squealed when he picked me up and carried me over to the bathtub.   
The water was cold now, not to mention dirty from Geralt’s bath before. Geralt dropped me on my feet again, his hands returning to my hips to balance me as I held out my hand and concentrated. Within seconds the water was clean and steaming. My lover had in that time started unbuttoning my breeches, slowly pushing the leather down my legs. I quickly pulled off my blouse and was then lifted up and sat down in the steaming water. I sighed at the warmth engulfing me, letting my eyes fall closed. And an even deeper sigh left my lunges as Geralt started washing my body with the small rag, just like I had washed him before. When he came to massage the soap into my scalp and hair I fell asleep, the deep warm chuckle the last thing I heard.


	15. Call Ma A Bitch Again, I Dare You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first part very violent, read with cuation.  
> Nienna and Geralt bickering like the old married coulpe they yet aren't, while Jaskier has to watch.  
> one paragraph (fifth to last or something) is just me thirsting...
> 
> and basically just my way of showing that the most badass woman have the most tragic past.  
> Enjoy :)

I woke up with a start, struggling to sit up in bed with Geralt’s heavy arm holding me close. I was panting and sweaty, as if I had run for days. And in my dream I had. But it wasn’t really a dream, not even a nightmare. It was my past. I had dreamt of the night the humans came for us, of the slaughtering of my people, my friends, my mother. Ever since I had been back to Dol Blathanna I had dreams of my past. Mostly happy memories of my friends and me playing together or my mother teaching me about chaos and magic, sometimes even memories of my father visiting, teaching me how to properly hold a sword. But all I saw today was the massacre, evellien screaming as humans cut off their ears, children crying out for their mothers and the mocking laughter of the humans.  
This time though I had a different perspective than all those years ago. This time I stood in the middle of the field, unable to intervene as a human soldier was charging at my mother, my younger self hiding behind her. The human laughed as he pushed younger me back, making her fall to the ground as she had to watcher her mother being stabbed in the stomach – not enough to kill her immediately – and cut off her ears. The piercing screams echoed in the air. Then, finally, as if out of mercy, the soldier slit her throat, the scream being cut off abruptly. He let her fall to the ground and laughed as younger me scrambled to her mother’s dead body, crying out in grief and hate. The soldier lifted his blade to decapitate the young elf, but was halted in his action by being decapitated himself. Golden eyes glowed in the darkness as a man’s hand reached out for my younger self, pulling her to her feet and away from the slaughtering. As they disappeared I was still standing on the field, unable to move. And as the world began to lighten around me I saw the extent of that doomed night. For as far as my eyes could reach the ground was covered in dead elves; men, women, children. Now I was finally able to move. I fell down on my knees and let out a loud cry.   
A cry that ripped me from my sleep. And the cry continued. I didn’t realize it was me at first, but when I did I put my face in my hands, weeping, sobbing and trembling.   
“Shh. You’re safe. Shhhh. All is fine. You’re here with me. No one will hurt you. Shhh.” That deep voice that always managed to calm me down whispered into my ear as he held my shaking body close to his, his strong arms protectively wrapped around me. We sat like this for a while. He let me cry. He didn’t ask questions, only held me close until I calmed down. Then he laid back down, pulling me on top of his broad warm chest and holding me there, knowing that his steady slow heartbeat would lull me into sleep sooner or later.   
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a while. I only shook my head in response.  
“Nienna, whatever it was, you are safe with me, my love. I will never let them hurt you again, dear. I love you,” he whispered reassuringly.   
I smiled into his chest, kissing it just above the inhumanly slow heartbeat. “I know, meleth. I love you too.” And with that I fell back to sleep. No dreams terrorizing me this time.  
The next morning came way too soon, and a few hours after sunrise we were ready to leave. Geralt and me that is; once we had our horses prepared we waited almost an hour for Jaskier.  
“We should just leave,” Geralt had suggested multiple times, only to be smacked against his armoured chest and thrown a disapproving glance by me.   
When the bard finally did show up he walked towards us with a smirk on his face. “So, Geralt, how did your evening alone with your lady go?” he raised his eyebrow suggestively.   
“We didn-“ Geralt started but was immediately interrupted by a very smug looking bard.  
“Oh no, don’t give me that shit!” he turned to me. “Nienna, your screams could probably be heard in the whole town.”  
Now I wished we would have just left. Taking a deep breath I prepared myself to explain. “Jaskier, nothing happened last night, and even if, it wouldn’t be any of your business,” I spoke, “If you must know. My screams… I had to relive what must have been the worst day in my life. If you had been through that, you too would scream for the whole town to hear, believe me.”  
All smugness left the bard’s face and was replaced by regret. “Oh, I-I’m sorry. Was it the, ah, the G-“ he stammered.  
“Mh-mhh.” A reassuring hand was placed on my shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
Luckily, just then Roach blew through her nose, impatient. I chuckled at that, the previous topic being dropped as we lead the horses out of town towards the next. It wasn’t that far and we could already spend the evening at an inn.   
As we entered the tavern the big room grew silent. At first I guessed it was because, sure, a tall, white-haired, golden-eyed, armour-clad man, a very young looking bard and a woman in leather trousers carrying a sword made an odd group. But as I glanced around the room there was something different in the townsfolk’s eyes. Relief.  
“Witcher,” the man behind the bar sneered, “We’ve been waiting for one of your kind to show up around here.”  
“Why the hostility, then? Hm?” I sassed back.  
“Did you forget to teach your bitch some manners, Witcher?” the man mocked, not taking his eyes off Geralt. Before the latter could react however, I had pulled my sword and held the tip to the inn-keeper’s neck.  
“Ohh, the bitch knows her manners. Better than you do, apparently,” I said in my sweetest voice, dripping with poison. “And, if you call her a bitch again, or any other woman, as a matter of fact, you can pick your head off the floor.” I applied more pressure to his throat before letting my blade drop to my side. “Understood?”   
Behind me I could literally feel Geralt’s amused smirk. He learned pretty early in our relationship that I would not need his protection. I appreciated it when he got all protective and possessive – I loved it even – but it wasn’t necessary. So yeah, to him it had become entertainment whenever men underestimated me. The bard on the other hand – so I felt it – was horrified.  
The inn-keeper nodded, his face pale.  
“Good,” I said bluntly while sheathing my sword and walking away to find a table in the packed tavern, pulling Jaskier with me.  
“If I may say,” he started as we sat down, “that was amazing. His face…” he stared laughing.  
Just then a maid came to our table, setting down a tray with three pints of ale. “This round is on the house,” she explained. Leaning down to my ear she whispered, “Thank you.”  
Apparently the inn-keeper treated all women with oh so much respect. Not. I smiled and nodded at the girl.  
“Oh, you should intimidate men more often,” the bard joked as he grabbed one of the pints and sipped at the golden liquid.  
“Don’t tell her that, she might actually do,” sounded the witcher’s gruff voice next to us. I looked up at him and pulled him down to sit on the bench, resting my head against his armoured shoulder.  
“You like it when I do,” I teased.  
A mixture of sigh and chuckle left his lungs. “True. But I have a reputation to uphold. How am I to do so if I have to hold back that pugnacious little girl? I am the warrior!” he protested playfully. Luckily the tavern was alive with sound now, so that we could speak freely without being worried about the witcher’s ‘reputation’.  
“Little girl?!” I laughed, “Sweetheart, I’m older than you a good fifty years!”  
“Well, you don’t look like it. And you’re short.” He smirked down at me, while Jaskier just watched our bickering.  
I didn’t know how to respond. He was right, plus I was pretty sure he meant it as a compliment. “And you’re… tall… and broad,” I finally came up with, trying to sound like I was still arguing but I was defeated.  
Who was I kidding, I loved his body. Not only his body. I loved his rare soft smiles, his deep rumbling voice, his caring nature despite the cruel world we were living in, his mesmerizing golden eyes that I got lost in and yes, his body. But not only for the obvious reasons, I mean he had the body of a god, strong, muscular, a perfectly chiselled face, the softest lips, and don’t get me started on his, ahem, nether region and how he could use it. But his body was also his story. Every scar, every tight muscle told a little about who he was, what he has been through. And I loved every inch of that.  
Geralt smiled in victory as I grew silent, all three of us drinking our ale until the witcher spoke up again. “The thing they’re dealing with… it’s a kikimora. I’ll leave once the ale is empty. ‘ll be back here this evening.”  
I didn’t like how he said it, indirectly ordering for me to stay here. But there was no arguing back. He downed his ale and stood up.  
“Don’t decapitate anyone while I’m gone,” he joked, leaning down and capturing my pouting lips in a quick kiss. “I love you,” he whispered for only me to hear, before turning around and leaving for the door.  
I sighed and finished my ale, getting up to book a room for us to stay the night. The inn-keeper was timid, promising a filled bathtub. I smiled to myself as I went up the stairs. I really should rebuke men who thought to be so much better than woman more often. Though, there was no guarantee for the others to react the same way this inn-keeper had done. This man was only an insecure arsehole, who was easily intimidated. Others could be a completely different story. So maybe Geralt was right. Not about the reputation part, but we didn’t need more trouble than we already had.  
Once in the room I took a short nap, since last night had been awfully short. A dreamless sleep. Good.


	16. Tossed Coins and Steaming Baths

I woke up to loud singing coming from the tavern downstairs, one voice drowning out all the others. Jaskier. And he was singing that damned song again. It took my tired brain a few seconds to realize that… if Jaskier was singing that song… Geralt was back!  
I jumped out of bed and raced down the stairs, pushing through the crowd until I stood right in front of him, my witcher. He was soaked in both water and the kikimora’s blood, but I could not make out any injury of his own. Luckily.  
“Took you long enough,” he muttered into my ear, before grabbing my face and kissing me deeply, not giving a single flying fuck about what the townsfolk might think. Most of them were way too drunk to realize what was going on anyway, only bawling along to the bard’s song and doing what it suggested: tossing him coins and handing him a pint of ale. A heavy coin-purse was pressed into his hand, the bounty for the kikimora. He led me through the crowd towards the stairs. Once we reached the bottom Geralt leaned down to whisper into my ear, “I was never one for praise. I would rather have my prize,” he said, his deep voice making me shudder as his hot breath fanned my neck and his lips grazed the shell of my ear. I gasped, but instead of pressing myself against him – how I would normally do – I took a step back, taking in his drenched appearance.  
“First you need to bathe,” I stated, a teasing smirk on my lips.  
“I just did so, as well as yesterday,” he replied, shrugging.  
I raised my eyebrows at him. “And your point is? Look at you! You’re filthy.” With that I walked up the stairs, swaying my hips more than usual, knowing it would drive him crazy, my bum directly in front of his face as he followed after me. Witchers and their heightened sex-drive, so impatient… But to be honest, I was in desperate need of him too; because of the bard we had almost no time for just the two of us. Yesterday had been the first time in weeks that we had the chance to be alone, and see how it went…  
At least the inn-keeper had kept his word. As we entered the room a steaming bathtub was waiting in front of the fireplace. I sat down on the bed, waiting for Geralt to undress and settle into the hot water. At first it did go as I planned, until he was left in only his pants. He took two long strides towards me and pulled me up.  
“Oh, no, no. You don’t get to watch me. You’ll get in there with me.” That said he started to undress me, skilled but impatient fingers struggling to unlace my corset. As he moved his hands to simply rip it apart I slapped his hands away. “Don’t you dare!” I hissed as I untied the laces without any problem, but taking my time, causing the man before me to groan. Once the steel-boned leather was off my body the witcher’s hands returned to their job, pulling the blouse of my body and kneading my breast. A satisfied grin spread on his face when my nipples hardened under his touch almost immediately. A breath I didn’t know I was holding left my lungs in a gasp and I reached out to stroke him through his pants. Groaning at that, he worked to push my trousers down my legs. When all fabric was off our bodies his hands travelled down my back towards the back of my thighs, hoisting me up so our faces were on one level. He captured my lips in an almost violent kiss, causing me to wrap my arms around his neck, hands gripping on to his long white locks - still damp from water and kikimora blood - not to fall back from the sheer power this man was holding. My legs crossed behind his lower back, his impossibly hard length pressing hot and pulsing against both our bellies. He walked us over to the tub and before I knew we were sitting in the steaming water, kissing passionately, the world around us seeming to disappear. All that mattered to us was each other. We needed this, it’s been way too long. (Thanks, Jaskier!)  
When we finally parted for air we were both panting. Geralt grabbed my hips and pulled them up over his throbbing cock, but an idea shot through my head. I wanted to make him beg for it. And I wanted the filth off his body if I was to kiss and grip onto it. I may be open for experiments, but if there was one thing I would rather not try it’s kikimora blood and brain.  
So I pulled back, gently but determined, causing the witcher underneath me to raise a brow.  
“You need to wash first,” I said, sitting back in the tub, snickering when he grunted. Geralt shot me a glare but did as he was told. Once the last bits of soap were rinsed out of his hair he leaned forward and grabbed my hips again, practically ripping me towards him. I balanced myself on my knees, right over his cock. It was red and swollen, desperate for release. But I smirked, running my hands over his muscled chest, teasing, my lips following the lines of my fingers, brushing ever so softly over his scarred chest, showing every single one the love it deserved. He was shaking beneath my touch, his hands trying to make me sink down on him, but I didn’t move.  
“Nienna,” he let out a broken whine. Gods, what a sweet sound.  
“Yes, dear?” I said sweetly, knowing exactly what he wanted.  
“You- you’re driving me crazy,” was all he managed to say.  
“What do you want, meleth?” gods, I finally understood why he was enjoying it so much when he did this to me. I felt powerful, having this beast of a man so desperate underneath me.  
“Y-you, I need you,”  
“Hmmm,” I hummed, my core aching at the sight before me. His brows were knitted together in a desperate grimace and he was panting from the slight brushing of my folds against the tip of his cock. “What do we say?” I teased.  
“Please,” he finally caved in, “Please, I need you, Nienna.”  
He groaned when I finally sunk down on him. His size made me hiss as he stretched me. It had truly been too long. The stretch burned like on our first time, but I loved this pain, it reminded me of who I was with, and that he was mine. But the way his hands gripped my hips, pushing me down on him until he was completely sheathed within me also told me that I’d pay for teasing him like I had.  
I had leaned my forehead against his shoulder while he pushed me down, gasping and moaning at the sensation of him filling me to the brim. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back, exposing my throat for his to nip at it. I rolled my hips against his, slowly at first, both of us moaning at the finally provided friction. Even at the slow pace the coil in my belly grew rapidly. I wouldn’t last long. Geralt twitched within me, looks like he won’t last long either.  
He took over, held my hips in place with one strong hand, his grip strong enough to leave bruises, and thrusted up into me, fast, fervently, almost violently even. Even though I looked to be in the dominant position I was completely at his mercy. I clung onto his shoulders and his finally washed hair as his rhythm picked up yet again, the water splashing around us, covering up the sound of wet skin hitting on wet skin and our heavy breathing.  
I felt him swell inside me and his thrusts became deeper, the head of his cock stroking against the sweet spot inside me. I cried out, the coil in my belly threatening to burst. His hand left my hip and I immediately rocked down on him, meeting his thrusts, his cock stimulating every spot that brought me closer to yet another mind-blowing orgasm – like every time we fucked, to be honest. Both his hands dug into my scalp now, pulling my head close, crashing his lips on mine, muffling both our moans and groans. I held onto his shoulders for balance, my fingernails digging into his skin. And that was it. With a deep groan that rumbled through his chest, he came inside me, shooting his hot seed deep into my core. It triggered my own release and I moaned out, long and high in pitch into our kiss. Totally spent I continued rocking my hips against him, riding out our high as we parted, breathing heavily.  
I couldn’t supress a laugh when I noticed the tub almost empty. We started getting out of the tub, careful not to slip on the now wet floor, and I winced as he slid out of me, feeling incomplete without him filling me. I started to dry off but Geralt scooped me up into his arms and threw me onto the bed.  
“I’m not through with you yet, love. You’ve been bad, teasing me like that.”  
His threat shot right to my core, making me tingle all over as he stalked over to the bed, taking in his prey. His amber gaze fixed on me, watching my every move as I was shaking in anticipation for him. After what felt like hours, he finally pounced, attacking my chest and neck with bites and kisses, marking me as his. Oh, how I loved it when he did that. And I was right, I would pay for teasing him. He didn’t stop until I was a writhing, shaking, cum-soaked mess beneath him, whimpering from overstimulation.  
When he finally collapsed next to me, pulled me close and kissed me sweetly, running his hands through my hair and over my skin with feather-light touch, the sun was already threatening to rise.  
“Be mine. Be my wife,” I heard Geralt whisper.  
I lifted my head tiredly at him, eyes threatening to fall closed as I smiled. “I am yours,” I whispered back and kissed a big scar on his chest right over his slow-beating heart. “I love you, meleth.” I fell asleep to his slow, even breath.


	17. Not One Quiet Day

We got married the next day; the next afternoon to be precise. It wasn’t spectacular, not like the weddings I’ve seen in my time in Vergen, where the whole village celebrated the newlywed couple. No, our wedding was small, but beautiful none the less – mostly because of my stunning husband. The only people present, besides Geralt and I, were Jaskier – of course – and the village’s major, who wed us.

Geralt had told me to wait in our room while he ran and arranged everything, so – with the help of Jaskier – I prepared our clothes for the ceremony. The bard had insisted on it. I was cleaning the witcher’s armour and Jaskier was braiding a flower crown for me to wear. Don’t ask me where he learned that! But he had insisted I wore one. “It’s an important detail for my song!” he had exclaimed. When I was done with Geralt’s armour I pulled an old dress out of my bag. It was the prettiest I owned, from back when I lived with my mother in Dol Blathanna, where it was reserved for only the most important occasions. Today would be one of those special occasions and I wanted to surprise my witcher – something I couldn’t do often, because he knew me too well and because of his senses.

The dress consisted of two parts: a white chemise, floor length with sleeves reaching to my elbows, and an over-dress. It was wine-red, the bodice laced up to my hips, loosely falling to my ankles, sleeves laced up from the shoulders to the elbows, the remainder falling open, past my knees. Trim and bodice were brocaded with golden tendril pattern. When I stepped out from behind the curtain that separated the wash-area from the main room, the bard’s jaw dropped.

“You think he’ll like it?” I asked, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden, fidgeting with a strand of my hair that I decided to wear loose today.

“Like it? He’ll love it!” the over-enthusiastic bard cheered, placing the finished flower crown of daisies, buttercups and other colourful flowers he found in the meadow, on my head and lead me to the mirror. “I mean… look at you! He’d be out of his mind if he didn’t like how you look now.” He paused, letting me take in my appearance in the dull glass. He was right. Without boasting or anything… I looked stunning, the years on the road seemed to be washed away by the bath last night. My hair – I don’t know how I did that! – was long and silky, my skin smooth and my eyes glowing like a leaf held against the sun. I faintly heard footsteps coming closer and Jaskier talking again. “Then again, he is a witcher, fighting monsters for money, getting killed on almost every job. Probably he is out of his mind…”

The door opened. “Who is out of his mind?” his deep voice sounded and a smile spread on my face. He was back!

“I’ll, uh, leave you two alone,” Jaskier said hurriedly as he walked quickly out of the wash-area, past the witcher – not without giving him thumbs-up – and out the door. But he didn’t close it. He left it cracked open peeking into the room. I shook my head and giggled a little.

Geralt stood in our room, not moving, waiting for me to show. “I can hear your heart racing, love. There is no need to be nervous.” His rumbling voice sounded through the room, calmingly.

“It’s a bride’s every right to be nervous on her wedding day,” I replied, not moving from where I stood. Why was I so nervous to face him suddenly?

He snorted. “Not for a woman who faces monsters almost every day.” He had a point.

I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the curtain, fumbling a little with the flowing sleeves. I eyed Geralt nervously, waiting for any kind of reaction. But none came. He was frozen in place, gawking at me, mouth agape. I giggled, walked over to him, all nervousness forgotten, and lightly pushed his chin up, closing his mouth. He blinked slowly.

“Wow, you look… wow.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Time for you to get cleaned up, meleth,” I said as I walked over to the bed, sitting down at its foot. I loved watching him put on his armour. Not as much as I loved watching him taking it off, but it was up there. The way his muscles rippled underneath the tight leather jacket, his form – that made me drool – being hidden by the steel-enhanced leather of his armour, making him look even stronger and more dangerous, even though I knew that under all the brute strength there was a little boy hiding, looking for someone to love. He had found that someone.

Once he was done, he took my hand gently in his and led me out the room. Jaskier darted out of his room, his lute in hand, following us down the hallway. 

Geralt led the way to the town hall. Inside the major was already waiting, his velvet sash in hand. He told us to kneel in front of him. Geralt held out his right hand, and I laid my left into it, the major wrapping in in the sash.

Jaskier was standing against the wall, covering his mouth with his hands, tears in his eyes, visibly touched by the situation. He was our closest friend during the last few months.  
“Lord Geralt of Rivia,” the major spoke, his voice official, “Lady Nienna, with the power infested in me by the Gods and the King of Lyria, I thee bind. Lovers, you may kiss to seal the contract.”

And that we did. Geralt held the side of my face ever so softly while I rested my hands against his chest. The kiss was deep and sweet and soft, containing all our love. When we finally parted, I had to wipe tears of joy from my eyes. Never had I thought this day would come - not since I had seen how horrible humans could be – that I’d be wed to the man I loved. 

With one swift movement Geralt pulled me to my feet and close to him, kissing me again, more forceful this time and I melted.

But we were interrupted by the door bursting open. A young boy –six, maybe seven years old – came running in. “Witcher! Witcher!” the child exclaimed. He was dishevelled, twigs entangled in his hair, and out of breath. He had run for a while. 

As Geralt grunted quietly, visibly annoyed that he couldn’t spend more time with his newlywed wife, and turned to the child, the boy jumped back, intimidated by the large man in front of him.

I smiled at the boy and fell to my knees. “What is it, child?” I asked in a soft voice, calming him.

He looked at me, eyes wide, as he tried to catch his breath. “M-my father… he was attacked…” the child wheezed out. 

Geralt fell to his knees next to me. “Where? Did you see what it was?” he pressed.

The boy cowered away at the urgency in his voice and I held my arms out. The child jumped in there almost immediately. “I-in the forest. I-I couldn’t s-see it, bu-but it was big,” he stammered out. I gently patted his head as he clutched onto me.

“Go,” I told my husband. He got up and reached behind his back, feeling for his sword. But he wasn’t carrying one.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and ran out the door. I got up as well and followed him, guiding the boy towards the inn.

“What’s your name?” I asked in an attempt to distract him.

“Clim,” he answered, now shy.

“Where is your home? Should I bring you there? Your mother must be worried sick about you.”

“My home is over there.” He pointed past the inn. “But the inn is better. Ma died two years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Clim,” I mumbled as we reached the inn, just as Geralt darted out the door. I grabbed his arm and whispered into his ear, “The boy doesn’t have anyone else.”

“Fuck. I’ll do my best,” he said under his breath.

“I know you will. Be safe. I love you.”

And then he was gone, galloping away on Roach. I stood there for a while, staring behind him until he disappeared. This would be our life now. He’d go on hunts while I’d stay behind, maybe even caring for a child someday.

Jaskier was entertaining the boy for as long as Geralt was still visible. When he was gone the bard cleared his throat. I ripped my eyes off the horizon and gazed at him.

“He’ll come back.”

“I know. It’s just… it feels different,” I sighed.

Jaskier grinned at me in an attempt to cheer me up. “You know him better than anyone else. You know he’ll be fine.” He led us into the tavern and while I looked for a place to sit, he ordered a round of ale - and whatever there was without alcohol for Clim.


	18. Potions Of Sage

Time seemed to drag on as I waited for Geralt to return. It was growing dark out, the tavern filled with people and Jaskier was singing again. I fidgeted nervously with my dress, the bodice feeling too tight. I tried to listen to the bard, taking my mind off my husband, who was gone for far too long.

“Once there was a lone White Wolf,  
With care for naught but prey and coin,  
Sent out to kill a wicket witch,  
The outcome of the quest unknown.” Jaskier sang.

“And once there was an elven mage,  
Beautiful and pure and wise,  
Brewing potions out of sage,  
Not a hint of evil hidden in her emerald eyes.

When the lone Wolf jumped the mage,  
He did not kill her for her beauty’s sake.  
Instead, he freed her from her cage,  
Preparing the way for a future they would make.

The elf broke through this frozen heart,  
Falling for a man who’s made to kill.  
With magic potions and healing art  
She aided him and continue she will.

For years and years they fought side by side,  
Carrying on the Witcher’s life.  
Love no longer able to hide,  
When he took her for his wife.”

Just as I thought; the song wasn’t helping at all. On the contrary, even. Now I was receiving weird glances from everyone not too drunk to understand the bard’s words.  
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I told Clim and left for my room. I quickly changed into my usual trousers, blouse and corset, strapping my weapons to my back and thigh – you never know. Only a few minutes later I raced down the stairs. The loud rambling in the tavern had covered up all the noise from outside, but upstairs in my room I could hear it loud and clear. 

Shouts. Shouts of my name. It was Geralt. He needed help.

So I ran out the tavern to the stables, not even bothering to put saddle and bridle on Shadow, I just jumped onto her back and urged her down the road, towards the yelling.  
It wasn’t long before I found him. Bloody and dirty he lay on the ground, right at the seam of the forest, another male lying next to him, just as beaten and bloody. Roach stood right by her master’s side, eyeing me nervously as I fell down to my knees next to my husband and gently held his head. Both men were breathing but unconscious. At my touch, Geralt opened his eyes a little and whispered, “A golem.” His voice was weak and once the words left his lips, he lost consciousness again.

Fuck.

I have to get them to town somehow. But how without causing more damage to their bodies than the golem did? Hmm… ah fuck.

I heaved the man, Clim’s father onto Shadow’s back, laying him face down against her mane. Gods, I hope this works. Then I pulled the saddle off Roach’s back and tried lifting Geralt onto her back. I grabbed her saddle off the ground and told both horses to follow me, and luckily, they did. When we reached the first houses of the village, I began shouting for help. Most people were at the inn, so only few heard me, and less cared. The few who came out of their houses, though, rushed to find the healer. A man led me to Clim’s house and carried the boy’s unconscious father inside, laying him on the bed. I had left Roach at the tavern, the commotion lured a few people outside; Jaskier was one of them. I trusted him to get Geralt upstairs into our room. The witcher would need less medical attention; he healed faster and he wasn’t as badly wounded as the villager. Even though there was nothing I wanted to do more than hurry to my husband’s side and tend to his wounds, as healer I felt I was needed here.

I inspected the wounds. Cuts and bruises mostly, probably broken bones, not much I could help with really, except potions helping with the pain and a salve against infections. But I would need my bag. When I turned to get it, a man was covering the door – the healer.

“Cuts, bruises and a few broken bones,” I told him.

He nodded at me. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll take over here, you can go tend to the other one,” he said, and in a softer tone he added, “Go to your husband, girl. He needs you now.”   
I nodded at him, a grateful smile playing around my lips as I practically ran out the door, into the tavern, up the stairs and into our shared room.

I stopped, shocked at the sight before me. I had never seen him as beaten up as he was now. I had also completely misjudged his injuries. He looked so much worse than the villager did: pieces of skin missing despite his heavy armour, blood soaking his entire body. But the worst was his face. Even though not wounded much, only a few bruises and cuts littering his handsome features, it almost brought me to tears. His face was distorted into a pained grimace, despite his unconscious state. He was suffering.

Just now, I realized Jaskier was also in the room, sitting on a chair, not taking his eyes off the witcher.

“Jaskier, I will need your help,” I choked out, trying to focus on the task at hand. He jumped to his feet, ready to do anything to help heal his friend. “I need bandages. Lots of them.”

“I-I’ll see what I can do.” And then he darted out the room.

I went to my bag, getting out the kettle and the bag filled with all kinds of dried herbs, spices, vials of oil and various other ingredients. Luckily it looked like I had everything I’d need. 

I fetched the big bowl from the washing table held my hand over it as it filled with hot water. Then I pulled a rag from my bag. Geralt had to be cleaned first, as much as I could at least. Jaskier had already removed the witcher’s leather armour. Carefully I cut open Geralt’s tunic. What I encountered underneath shocked me. His entire upper body was covered in black and blue bruised, blood trickling from the many cuts.

“Oh, meleth,” I sighed as I began gently cleaning his chest from dirt and blood. Even in his unconscious state his eyes screwed shut and his brows twitched in pain. “I’m sorry, meleth. I know it hurts, but I have to do it,” I whispered to his deaf ears, hoping it would ease his pain. when I was done, the water was tinted red. I contemplated what to do now, the elixir or the salve. The salve would be no use without the bandages, and Jaskier still hadn’t returned, so I got everything ready for the potion. 

I lit a small flame under the kettle and poured in some vinegar. In a mortar I ground garlic, pine needles and dried dwarf everlast to a fine paste, giving it into the vinegar once it bubbled in the kettle. I let it cook for a few minutes and then poured it back into another bowl to cool. The liquid smelled like a sour soup, and I already felt sorry for Geralt and his fine senses. But it was no use, he’d have to drink it in order to get rid of the pain. 

While the potion cooled down, I mixed the salve. It was a little more complicated. First, I ground sage and mixed it with thyme oil. Then I heated honey in the kettle. When it bubbled, I added a dash of tea tree oil and just a little bit of water. The honey-oil mixture had to be poured into the mixing bowl very slowly, and it had to be stirred all the time, until it was cool. 

Just in time, Jaskier burst through the door, carrying – let’s say – loads of bandages. I smiled at him, relieved. The salve was cool now and I applied it onto Geralt’s arms, where the golem had ripped entire pieces of skin off my husband. He jerked slightly as the salve first came in contact with his raw flesh, but soon he either sank deeper into unconsciousness or he got used to the feeling – I couldn’t tell, but he stopped jerking. His face, though, was still distorted into the pained grimace. 

“You’ll be alright, meleth,” I whispered. Behind me, Jaskier laid a hand on my shoulder and I reached for it, turning my head to smile at him before continuing salving up the witcher.

It took hours to bandage all his wounds, and when we were finally done, the sun already started to rise. Tiredly, I filled the elixir into vials. The last bit I left in the bowl and sat at the edge of the bed, lifting Geralt’s head with one hand, guiding the bowl to his lips with the other. “Drink,” I whispered, “drink, meleth, it will help you.” And he did. After a few minutes, the elixir started to show its effect. Geralt visibly relaxed. I was relieved. 

I kissed his forehead and made my way around the bed, collapsing next to him, completely exhausted.


	19. You’re The One Who Could Have Died!

I woke up to a pained groan next to me and shot up. The sun had barely risen. Geralt was awake. He looked bad; sweat on his face, his lips pale, face still grimaced. It hurt my heart to see him like this, but I’ve already done the best I could. Quickly, I got out of bed and over to the table with the potions. I grabbed a vial and hurried to my husband’s side, sitting down at the edge of the bed as I held the vial to his lips. Geralt scrunched up his nose at the smell, and I couldn’t supress a giggle.

“I know. It stinks, and it probably doesn’t taste much better, but it’ll help against the pain.” He eyed me carefully as I lifted the vial, making him drink the potion. His face scrunched up even more at the taste and he shuddered, and immediately groaned afterwards.

I remained seated by his side, running my fingers through his hair. “I was worried about you. The moment you left, I felt… weird. I should have come with you. If I hadn’t gone up to the room, you’d b-“

“Shh. I’m here now, love. And I’m fine, thanks to you,” Geralt murmured, but his deep voice laced with pain gave him away; he was not fine. I sat next to him in silence, for hours, continuing to run my fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp. He drifted off to sleep from time to time. A loud rumble sounded around the room and my eyes shot to my stomach immediately. The sound woke Geralt and he stared into my eyes as intently as his tired form could. 

“When was the last time you ate?” he questioned, voice as serious as ever, despite the pain.

“Yesterday morning. But it doesn’t matter, you’re more important now,” I replied.

“Nienna, you have to look after yourself. There isn’t much you can do for me now. All I need now is rest. And a healthy wife. You need to eat something.” Even though his voice was caring, anger was hidden behind it.

“Alright. But I’ll get Jaskier to watch over you. And don’t play strong in front of him! If you’re in too much pain, tell him, he’ll give you some of the elixir,” I said as I went to the door.

Down the hall, I knocked on the bard’s door. “Yeah?” I heard a call from inside. I opened and peeked my head into the room.

“Geralt has me go eat something. You’d need to watch him while I’m gone. The potion… even when he tells you he doesn’t need it, half a vial. Should be time for the next dose soon,” I instructed him tiredly. Jaskier nodded, got up from his bed, where he had been tuning his lute, and walked over to me. 

“I got this, Nienna,” he said, grabbing my shoulders, “you look horrible, by the way.” He winked, leading me out of the room and down the hall, slipping into Geralt’s and my room as I continued down the stairs into the tavern.

I received some weird looks when I entered the big room. At first, I thought it was because of Jaskier’s new song; that they stared because I was an elf – well, half-elf. But when I looked down at my clothes, mostly to avoid the eyes of the townsfolk, I saw it. My clothes were covered in blood, dirt and ingredients for the medicine I had made. Probably had dark circles under my eyes as well. I must have looked as exhausted as I felt. I dragged my feet over to the bar.

“What will it be? A coffin?” the innkeeper snickered.

I glared at him, and he stopped. “Soup and bread, for three. If you could get it to my room, it’d be great,” I said, my voice cold. The innkeeper nodded.

It would take a while until the food was ready, I knew that, so I went across the street to check up on Clim’s father. The healer hadn’t left yet, watching as the boy clutched onto his father’s hand, pleading him to wake up.

“Will he make it?” I whispered.

“Hard to say. The injuries are not fatal, but he lost a lot of blood. Only time will tell,” replied the healer. I nodded. Gods, I really hope he’ll make it. The boy shouldn’t grow up without parents. Clim turned his head and spotted me. I gave him a reassuring smile and nod, turned and left.

Just as I entered the inn, the innkeeper called out. “Hey, elf, your food. Take it upstairs, will ya.”

“Thanks,” I grunted as I grabbed the tray from him and made my way to the room. The food smelled heavenly and my stomach grumbled again.

I sat the tray down on the table, very quietly. Geralt was asleep and Jaskier was absently strumming his lute. Geralt looked better now, no sweat on his forehead and his face had regained colour. Even his breath was deeper now, the broken ribs healing quickly. I smiled as he stirred, the smell of the food waking him. He opened his eyes, searching for the source of the smell and spotted me. As soft smile played around his lips when he watched me grab a bowl and a spoon off the tray and walk over to his side.

“You’ll never put yourself first, will you?” he grunted, wincing in pain as he sat up slightly.

“Not when you need my help, meleth,” I whispered. “Oh, Jaskier, there’s some for you too,” I gestured over my shoulder with the spoon. “Not the wedding feast you hoped for, but better than nothing,” I joked at my husband. He made an attempt to take the bowl from my hand, but my pointed glare stopped him. Under a little protest, I succeeded to feed him the stew, even when he insisted he could do it on his own. He couldn’t, his arms were stiffly bandaged; he couldn’t move. Once he was finished, he practically pushed me off the bed to go eat my own.

And I did, the hunger now finally taking over. The whole time I felt his eyes practically burning into my back, to make sure I took care of myself. I have to say, as much as I loved him for it, as adorable as it was, it annoyed me a little. He was the one who could have died! He was the one who needed to be taken care of, gods damn it! Both elves and witchers are durable, both can go a day or two without eating – well, as long as they weren’t injured. And yet, there he was, not able to move without being in pain, but still caring more for me than for himself.

Behind my back, I felt his stare falter, until soft snoring filled the room. I smiled fondly at that sound. 

By now, Jaskier and I had finished our meal; I gathered the bowls on the tray and grabbed a handful of coin from my purse. 

“I’ll go, get the stuff back downstairs, and pay before the innkeeper comes barging in,” I joked at the bard, keeping my voice low not to wake my husband.

Jaskier smiled, nodded, and followed me out the door, quietly closing it behind him. Before we could part ways, he spoke up. “I, uhm, I’ll leave tomorrow, spreading the tales of our brave witcher,” he said with a slight chuckle, “You can’t make coin if you’re stuck in one place too long, and it looks like Geralt will need some more time before you two can get back on the road. Take care of him, Nienna. And of yourself, too. I want to write more songs about the Witcher and his elven wife.” The bard winked.

I smiled at him, thinking about what to say. I was surprised he’d leave us on his own, he followed after us like a lost puppy these last few months. “I will,” I said finally. “And you: stay out of trouble, yeah?”

A big, mischievous smile spread on the young man’s face. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Well, then at least try, okay? Goodbye, friend.”

“See you around.”

And then each of us turned, Jaskier going to his room, and I went to the tavern, handing back the plates.


	20. Not The Wedding Night I Had In Mind

The innkeeper scoffed when he saw me. “Took ya long enough.”  
I glared at him. “Careful who you’re talking to,” I hissed at him. seemingly he had forgotten what I had done on our first encounter, or he felt brave now that I wasn’t carrying my sword.  
“Elven bastards don’t get to threaten me!” the fat man bellowed. “Besides, your witcher isn’t here and you have no weapon. You don’t scare me.” His arrogant face made me want to punch him even more than the word he added, “Bitch.”  
I looked around the room, feigning to avoid his eyes in defeat, but in reality reading the thoughts of the people present: they all didn’t like the innkeeper, most of them came here because the food was good and the ale cheap. He treated women like dirt, hit his wife, sold his own daughter off to the brothel in the next town when his business was going badly. In short, he made me sick.  
Meeting his eyes, I glared at him. “I told you what would happen if you called me that again,” I said dangerously calm. Thick tension hang in the air, all eyes were on me, waiting for my next move.  
“Pah,” the innkeeper laughed out, “And what can you do to me? Eh? You’re but a girl. And you don’t carry your sword.”  
I smiled coldly at him, remaining quiet, standing still for a short time. Then, with quick, calculated movements, I reached out, grabbed his head and slammed it down on the bar. I pulled him up with one hand and punched him square in the jaw with the other. He fell back against the wall behind him, holding his broken nose as blood poured from it, dazed from the force of my blow.  
“Time you learned your manners,” I spat at him, referring to what he had said to me – or more like Geralt – when we first came here.  
I turned and left towards the stairs. The eyes of everyone in the room followed me, staring in awe. But I ignored them. I didn’t need their praises or whatever.  
When I entered our room, Geralt was still sleeping. He looked so peaceful, and, except for the white hair, human even. The potions worked, or he healed even faster than I remembered, his handsome, relaxed features showing no sign of pain or suffering. Still, it would take at least a week for him to fully heal. Even if he said we could leave in two or three days, I wouldn’t let him. In this life, hunting alone is dangerous, hunting injured is suicide.  
I wish we could stay like this, domestic that is. Not here of course, but a place of our own. Just the two of us living in a small cottage, the garden providing us with everything we’d need, the rest of the world not existing.  
But it was just a fantasy. One that could never become reality. Geralt was a witcher, he had – even if he didn’t choose it for himself – responsibilities: monsters would not stop existing, and the numbers of witchers was shrinking; the Continent needed every single witcher it had, dreaming of a domestic life with mine was nothing but selfish. I knew and accepted that the moment I realized I loved him. Besides, as weird as it may sound, I kind of enjoyed hunting monsters side by side with Geralt. It was a simple life, full of adrenaline and travelling.  
With a deep sigh, I sat down on the bed. It was late afternoon already and the lack of sleep was finally getting the better of me. Last night had been stressful and way too short, I may have slept maybe three to four hours. With a yawn, I laid down on the bed, facing my wounded husband his even, deep breath and soft snores lulling me into a much-needed sleep.  
Later, when I woke up, it was dark outside, the waning crescent moon doing little to illuminate the room. Its position and the lack of noise outside and in the tavern told me that it was way past midnight. I tiptoed over to the fireplace and lit it, along with a few candles until the room glowed golden.  
A tired groan made me turn around. Geralt had woken up, squinting at the soft light. I returned to his side, stroking a strand of hair out of his face, gently caressing his bruised cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure, worried I’d hurt him. With an appreciative hum, he nuzzled into my touch, his eyes, now used to the light, gazed into my own. He smiled slightly.  
“How are you, meleth?” I whispered.  
“So much better already,” he rasped out tiredly. Oh, how I loved his sleepy-voice. His voice, like his face, showed no sign of pain. “Your potions… they taste fucking disgusting, but they work.”  
I blew a laugh through my nose. “I’ll need to change the bandages. Can you sit up?” I asked after a moment of silence.  
With much effort, and my help, Geralt managed to sit up against the headboard. I cut through the bandages, staring at his legs. They were still bruised, but the small cuts had healed already. Palpating them, I couldn’t feel any broken bones. His pelvic bone looked the same. Luckily; if it had been fractured, even with his fast healing, we’d be stuck here for at least a month. His lower body wouldn’t need any more bandaging.  
As I cut the fabric off Geralt’s torso, I was taken aback by the view, my eyes growing wide at first, then brows knitting together concerned. It wasn’t as bad as it was yesterday, the cuts had healed, leaving thin white scars behind, but they’d go away sooner or later; the black and blue replaced by green and yellow mostly, but a few blue spots remained. Letting my fingers travel along the witcher’s toned body, with my eyes closed, I felt for any broken bones.  
“You seem to enjoy that way too much,” a chuckle left my husband’s lips.  
I opened my eyes and poked a dark spot on his ribs, not too hard, only so much to let him feel his injuries were serious. He immediately stopped and winced a little.  
“Seems like that’s a nasty bruise,” I said nonchalantly.  
“Hm.” He glared at me.  
I giggled a little and led his arm to lie in my lap, cutting it free of the bandage. Just as I thought, the cuts had healed quite nicely, but the small patches of skin missing were healing rather slowly – in contrast to the rest of his injuries, that is. But even they looked like deeply scraped skin, with no raw flesh showing. Sighing, I got up and got the salve. Carefully I applied it to Geralt’s wounds. He was trying his best to keep his arm from moving, but he twitched from time to time. It must still hurt badly.  
“I’m sorry, meleth, but I have to do it,” I whispered apologetically.  
“I’ve had worse,” he chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Don’t worry.”  
I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but his statement made me think about the time before I met him. Back then he was all alone, no one would take care of him, heal him. He’d be lucky if a traveller or local took him in or got him to a healer.  
I shook my head slightly, clearing it from my thoughts and concentrated on bandaging my husband’s arm. I did the same with his other arm. It didn’t look any different.  
Once I was done I helped him to lay down again, then climbed onto the bed, my knees straddling his hips as I hovered above him, littering his face with soft kisses. When our lips finally met, I realized how much I had missed his taste in this one night and one day. It was the first kiss after he had left.  
Too soon, I had to pull away. Golden eyes gazed up at me, dazed with love and longing.  
“I’m sorry about our wedding night,” he mumbled.  
I smiled fondly down at him, leaned down to peck his lips before climbing off him and laying down next to him. “It wasn’t that bad,” I confessed. He cocked a brow. “I mean, I hate seeing you like this,” I rushed out, “but you rarely let me take care of you. It was nice to be there for you like you are for me.”  
“I never have you drink potion that taste like piss,” he protested. I giggled. “But I’ll make it up to you. You’ll get the wedding night you deserve.”  
“First you need to heal,” I said, letting my finger run along his bandaged arm, partly for emphasis. “And to bathe,” I added teasingly, scrunching up my nose.  
“And you’ll need one when I’m done with you; I promise you that, my love.”  
A shot of excitement went straight to my core at his statement, and I pressed my legs together. I’d have to wait. Now it was more important to get him healthy enough to return to the road.  
With a yawn, I nuzzled my head into the pillow, my forehead resting against Geralt’s shoulder.  
“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered.  
“Goodnight, meleth,” I whispered back and fell asleep almost immediately, the fact that he was so much better even after one day calming my worried mind.  



	21. Stupid Curse

The next morning Geralt was already able to sit up on his own. If it had been up to him, we’d leave within the day, but I wouldn’t allow it. So, while he was almost going crazy trapped in the small room, I stitched what was left of his clothes back together. His trousers weren’t too damaged, but his armour and leather jerkin were, I’d need material to patch the jerkin, and the armour had to be repaired by a professional.

Geralt had finally stopped pacing around the room like a trapped wolf – which he was, somehow – and settled down at the foot of the bed, cleaning and sharpening his various blades, cursing at the dents in his silver sword. When I walked over to the door, carrying a fairly heavy coin-purse on my hip, he called out for me.

“Don’t be gone for too long.”

I nodded and smiled at him. Was he becoming clingy?

But I did as he requested, hurrying as a bought a new tunic and a piece of leather for the jerkin, both in his favourite colour: black.

Back at the tavern, I noticed the innkeeper missing. In his place stood a middle-aged woman, a bruise still visible on her cheek; she must be the innkeeper’s wife. What was also missing was the bard’s cheery voice singing whatever annoying song he had about Geralt. Jaskier had really left.

It took the witcher the whole week to heal completely, his strength returning with every passing day. His armour had been fixed in that time, so by the end of the week we returned to the road.

He, uhm, also kept his promise about our wedding night. Once we were in the open wilderness, with no one around but us and the animals living in the forest, he made his words reality. He had me screaming and chanting his name from sunset to sunrise, not stopping until I was a shaking, panting, cum-soaked mess beneath him in the soft grass, and he couldn’t possibly go another round. Then he had collapsed next to me, and we had stayed laying on the clearing in the soft grass for the whole day. Just the two of us, bodies intertwined, caressing one another wherever our hands could reach, peaceful, while Roach and Shadow grazed. 

Weeks, months, even years passed. We were travelling slowly, going west, passing through Lyria, Rivia and Riverdell, before going north through Sodden, along the foot of the Mahakam mountains. Ever since the incident with the golem, I joined Geralt on his hunts; even though he would rather I stayed behind, in the safety of the various inns and taverns we stayed at. But he needed back-up.

A few months ago, we were hired to slay a rouge witch, who was cursing people, the curses ending in a horrible death after weeks or months of torture. We managed to kill her, but not before she had a chance to lay a curse on me. 

Her curse was evil, for both Geralt and me. It activated the canine part of my witcher-blood, making me feel like a dog in heat from sunset to sunrise. I was in pain, my abdomen clenching and yet feeling like somebody was ripping it out of my body - and only one thing could relief me from my suffering. But, if I even did so much as pleasure myself, I’d die. Sex with my husband would kill me.

And it almost killed Geralt to see me like this, knowing that if he tried to help me, he’d kill me. My smell, full of pheromones, was driving him crazy, to the point we slept in separate rooms at the inns, neither of us trusting our sex-crazed brains caused by the curse. There was no way to lift the curse, it would wear off; but how long it would take no one knew.

It had been three months, and it still hadn’t gotten better. Knowing the witchers’ high sex-drive, and not wanting my husband to be in even more pain, I encouraged him to hire a courtesan from time to time. At first he refused, but after some time he saw reason; he would be no use on hunts when he all he did was drooling after me, the back of his clouded brain knowing that it would kill me if we sated the need within both of us.

Currently we stayed in Maribor, in separate rooms. Geralt was with a whore; I could feel his guilt through the walls. He didn’t like our arrangement one bit, but we both knew it was for the best.

All the while I was stocking up his potions, a task I had taken upon me during the years with him. Most of the time he’d help, having brewed his own since he had left Kaer Morhen. It distracted me from the cramping in my lower stomach. The sun was beginning to set. With routine handles I ground fresh veratum, stramonium, hawthorn and spurge, together with other herbs to a paste, adding it into the kettle with boiling water until the liquid turneda dark green. I filled the potion into small vials and cleaned the kettle. And moved to make the next potion.

I tried my best to tune out the sounds coming from the room next door, but with my elven senses I could also sit on the bed next to them, it wouldn’t sound any different. I know Geralt tried his best to keep quiet, but the occasional groan was like a dagger to my heart. I know, I had allowed him, even encouraged him to do what he was doing right now, but it didn’t mean I liked it, my husband sharing his bed with some whore.

The potions… Deep breaths…

With a deep sigh, I returned to brewing the potion that would make witchers see in the dark. Mushing banewart berries, eyebright and monk’s hood, and adding it to the boiling water, I let my mind wander, remembering what the potion did to Geralt. Skin as white was a sheet, eyes black, glistening with the little light; he hated it when I saw him like that, it made him feel like he was exactly what many people still believed him to be – a monster. To be completely honest, I liked seeing him like this, though. I don’t know. There is something about the thrill of him looking like this – a merciless predator. Sure, the first time I had seen him with all black eyes, I was shocked; not at what he looked like, but at what had been done to him that the potions would have this effect on him. For other people his potions would be poison.

Once the liquid had turned black, I filled it into the vials, setting all into his bag reserved for only potions.

The sounds next door had stopped. I heard the woman talking softly, questioning Geralt about his scars. Then she started talking about another witcher, who had passed through on his was to Vizima. I knew what it would mean for Geralt and me, so I packed my stuff. Just in time, apparently. 

A knock was heard. It wasn’t at my door, though, my senses betraying me, but at the door of the witcher. “It’s been three nights. Pay up or get out!” A voice shouted; the innkeeper. After no reaction from inside the room, he shouted again while repeatedly banging against the door, ”You hear me? Witcher!” The man surely had had enough, because the next thing I heard was the door bursting open.

It was time that we looked for a new job, our coin was running low - let’s just say the whores that he hired weren’t cheap. So I left the room, joining my husband outside.   
He was whispering to Roach, “Don’t judge me.” The mare snorted. It seemed like nobody was happy with the arrangement, not even our horses. I left Shadow in the stables, the horses surely would be a guarantee for us to return.

Geralt turned towards the innkeeper. “I’ll be back with payment in a few days. Anything happens to my horse…” he said, an unfinished threat.

The innkeeper chuckled. “You don’t scare me.”

Geralt just looked at him, stepped closer to the man until only a few feet separated them and stared him down menacingly. 

“Point me to Temeria,” he demanded and the innkeeper complied, pointing in the direction of said kingdom. 

We set off in the direction we were pointed. Geralt tried to convince me to stay behind, but when I only smirked and handed him his bag of potions, he chuckled. 

“You’d be lost without me, Minne,” I stated.

“Maybe you’re right, my love.”


	22. Not A Vukodlak

We walked for two days and two nights. It was winter and bitterly cold. We were both wrapped in our coats and cloaks. At least the freezing caused me to grow numb, the searing pit in my abdomen becoming only a small flame.

On our way down into a miners’ town, we came across a pole, a sign nailed to it. ‘Temeria: realm of monsters and cowardly kings’ it said. Night was falling quickly.

Sitting on a large chest standing against a wall, we listened to a group of citizens, miners, suggesting a strike and to overthrow the king. They didn’t notice us.

I rolled my eyes. They could never manage that. Kings had armies, trained to fight. What could a bunch of miners do against them?

Next to me, Geralt spoke up, “You can’t kill the vukodlak…” everybody turned around to face him. “So you decide to kill your king? Great plan.”

I had to bite back a smile.

“Another fuckin’ witcher,” a miner spat, literally, “Your kind already swindled us once.”

“I take payment after the job is done and for a third of the price. An apology… from my guild… to yours.” The witcher’s voice was calm, polite, even friendly by his standards.

The miners were doubtful about that suggestion. Finally, one spoke up, “And if you can’t kill it?”

My husband’s answer made me flinch. “Then I die.” He said it like it wasn’t a big deal, but deep down I knew it was just a mask he put on for the miners. In the commotion caused by a troop of soldiers marching up, Geralt turned to me, holding my hand gently, hidden in our cloaks. “I won’t,” he whispered into my ear.

The miners huddled together, raising their tools to use them as weapon.

The soldiers halted, making way for a man – a noble, according to his clothes. “Please,” he said, “Everyone, remain calm. Lower our weapons and return to your homes.”

We watched the scene.

“Do so quickly and without theatrics… and you have my word that our king will not hear from this treason.”

The man who had previously talked to Geralt spoke up again. “Foltest commits treason. He hides in his winter castle as we are eaten.” His voice rose with every word he said. The crowd cheered in agreement and anger.

“Mikal was a good boy,” the noble said, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Revenge will not ease your pain.”

The miner grabbed the noble’s wrist and suddenly yanked his hand off his shoulder, spitting at the noble’s feet.

The guards readied their weapons for an attack, but the noble stopped their action by raising a hand.

“You know nothing,” said the miner, his low voice almost threatening, “Of my pain.”

He stormed off, mentioning for the others to follow him.

Geralt and I were left alone with the noble and his troop. The witcher next to me sighed. “Does Foltest have a plan?” he asked the noble.

The man didn’t answer, instead he spoke to his soldiers. “See this one to our borders. Temeria’s had their fill… of witchers.”

Geralt lowered his eyes, almost defeated. It broke my heart, seeing people treat him like dirt over and over again; he was the best man I had ever met – if he wasn’t I hadn’t agreed to marry him. Under my cloak I squeezed his hand reassuringly and we got up, following the soldiers on horses, escorting us out of the kingdom – which desperately needed the witcher.

We walked for some time. It must have been past midnight, when suddenly the horses became nervous. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach – well, beside the effect of the curse. We were being watched. The riders fell off their horses with a thud, unconscious, their swords clanging on the frozen ground. The horses ran off.

Geralt drew his sword, as did I, standing back to back, two sets of keen eyes searching the darkness for the new threat.

“Witcher,” a whisper sounded through the mist and darkness. The addressed whipped around, knees bend, sword raised, staring into the direction of the whisper, lips pressed together in a thin line, brows knitted together.

A hooded figure approached. How had I not noticed their presence before? And then she spoke. “You can put down your swords. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Says the witch hiding in the woods,” Geralt growled at her.

“Sorceress,” she corrected.

“Witch,” my husband insisted with a growl. His wariness was legitimate, seeing the state I was in, all because of a witch gone rouge.

I read her. There was no threat coming from her. I sheathed my sword.

She lowered her hood, dark auburn curls framing a young, pretty face.

“Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest,” she introduced herself.

Geralt lowered his sword, but didn’t sheath it, still not trusting the girl.

“So he makes a show of kicking me out… then sends and errand girl to slip me some coin so I kill his monster,” the witcher grunted. “Not a very original plan for a king.”

“It’s my plan,” retorted the sorceress, stepping closer, “My coin. And I don’t want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it.”

I turned my head to gaze up at Geralt. His expression was unreadable as he stared at Triss. The job wasn’t exactly usual for a witcher, but I guess we’d manage. Besides, we desperately needed the coin to get our horses back. So I answered for him, “We’ll try our best.”

The sorceress smiled and nodded, leading the way.

As we walked, Geralt leaned down to whisper in my ear, “You know, if it’s a vukodlak, we can’t save it.”

“I don’t think it is one,” I whispered back.

The sun was starting to rise when we entered the castle, Triss leading us to her chambers. 

As soon as we entered the room, she started explaining why exactly we were here. “Six years ago, stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city,” she led us through the room, past tables packed with all kinds of vessels and vials used to brew potions. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when I laid eyes upon her equipment. “Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest’s royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king’s sister Adda is buried. Rumour has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died.”

“Was she pregnant?” It was the first time in hours that Geralt spoke.

“Well, if she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married,” Triss answered. “The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn’t risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature.”

“Vokudlaks are freak mutations. They can’t be cured.”

“Well, good thing it’s not a vukodlak.”

There, I said it! Something was off about this kingdom, and it wasn’t only because there was a monster eating people every full moon.

The witcher, previously letting his eyes drift through the room, turned his head abruptly to face the sorceress and stared at her.

“Do you know what it is?” I asked, already having a suspicion for myself.

She didn’t answer, just stared to walk out of the room, mentioning for us to follow. We walked through dim, torch-lit hallways.

“Two thousand orens if you can tell me what exactly killed these people,” Triss said as we entered a morgue, bodies lying in boxes, covered with salt. 

At the door, Geralt stopped, eyeing every body displayed in the room. The sorceress stepped aside, her face almost guilty. Something caught the witcher’s eyes and he stepped closer to the body. I followed, but kept a little distance as I saw what exactly had caught my husband’s attention. The man lying in the box wore the same medallion as Geralt, a wolf baring its fangs. He was another witcher!

Geralt pulled the necklace from the body, speaking, while focused on the pendant worn by his fallen brother. “You didn’t want the people to know it bested a witcher,” he growled, then turned towards the woman. “And you let them believe that he fled with their coin.”

Turning back to the witcher’s dead body, Geralt secured the medallion to his belt and shoved the salt off the man’ torso, a large hole being revealed. With his gloved hands he felt for any missing organs.

“You two clearly weren’t acquainted,” commented the auburn haired sorceress.

“His heart’s missing along with his liver.”

My suspicions were proven more and more.

“Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga,” Geralt concluded with a grunt.

“Strigas are old wives’ tales,” Triss protested.

“They’re very rare. The only way to make one is through a curse,” the witcher explained.

“Someone wanted Adda dead,” she stated.

“Mm-hmm. But the curse didn’t stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster,” Geralt continued.

“Her daughter?” the sorceress sounded confused.

“Strigas are female,” the witcher grumbled. With a sigh he added, “A striga is a princess.”

Around noon, we were led before the king. Well, I say we, but I had to wait outside, a guard, having spotted my pointed ears, not letting me enter the room. The gods forbid an elf to be in the same room with a king! Fucking humans…

From outside I could, however, hear the conversation loud and clear. The captain of the royal guard was complaining to Triss that she shouldn’t have gotten a witcher for help, calling Geralt a ‘mutant mercenary’. But the sorceress defended herself and the witcher quite well. The captain, though, refused to believe the theory, claiming that it couldn’t be true as everybody loved the princess. After a moment of silence coming from the room, the huge double doors opened, revealing the witcher. He had the Triss lead the way out, followed by the noble from the city and the captain of the guard. The last stopped next to the witcher, wanting him to leave the room first, but Geralt pushed him out of the room and closed the door, not before giving me a reassuring glance. He had a plan. 

The door closed and I heard the latch being pushed to secure the door. Immediately the guards banged against the door, yelling for the witcher to open up. But he didn’t.   
I just leaned against the wall with my arms crossed, smirking to myself. Nothing would happen; he just had to talk to the king, alone. Even though I hadn’t seen him, there was something off about the king, I could sense it from the moment we entered the castle.

After some time the guards stopped banging against the door. The guards left and got something to ram in the door with, I didn’t even pay attention to what exactly it was. I concentrated on the voices coming out of the room, where the king more or less – well, less, but the way he spoke made it obvious – confessed that he was in fact the striga’s father. 

Just then, the guards broke through the door, everybody storming into the room. I lazily walked over to the door, observing the scene. With a raised hand, the king stopped the guards from attacking. He was standing close to Geralt, who was leaning against the wall.

“Leave Temeria,” Foltest ordered. “Never return.”

Geralt stared at him for a moment, then lowered his gaze, stood up and walked out the door, putting his hand on the small of my back as he led me outside.

“You won’t let this go, right?” I asked him, worried eyes meeting his golden ones. Strigas, were not easy to deal with. They were fast, sharp claws and teeth, and filled with anger.

“I can’t. And I did more for less. You know that,” he replied. Guilt was hidden in his voice, as if he knew just how risky the job would be.

“Always the saviour of Princesses,” I joked to lift the mood.

“Hmm.” He smiled at me a little and we made our way to the abandoned castle.


	23. Lies, Secrets And Curses

It wasn’t long before we arrived. Six years had done much to that place. The formally regal palace – or how I imagined it to be – was seemingly falling apart. Tiles of the roof were missing, the framework close to collapsing. The only thing that said ‘this is a royal palace’ was the size of the building and the fact that guards were still standing in front of the gates, blocking our way in. We quickly hid in the moat, against a wall close to the castle bridge.

The guards were terrified of the place, flinching at every sudden sound. They were eager for their shift to end.

“I could cast a spell, distract them, and we can go in,” I suggested, but my husband decided it would be better to watch at first. We weren’t alone for long though. I heard her steps from about half a mile away.

“You were told to leave Temeria,” she spoke up as she was within hearing range.

We both turned towards the young sorceress.

“But come on. These views,” Geralt said in his usual grumbling voice.

“Are you going to kill her?” Triss inquired.

Geralt turned a little more, still having to look over his shoulder to see the sorceress. “I don’t want the miners’ coin,” he grumbled, almost angrily.

“Or mine, apparently,” Triss retorted. “What is this girl to you? Why do you care?” 

I’d say it’s guilt. He still wakes up at night, whispering the name of the princess he couldn’t save: Renfri. He had her broach attached to his sword. She had meant something to him. He barely talked about what had happened back then; I only knew what witnesses had seen. Every time I tried questioning him about Renfri – or Blaviken – he’d go quiet and distant, pain still in his eyes. I knew better than to push him to talk to me; one day, I knew, he’d be ready and tell me.

After a moment of silence, Geralt spoke, “You first. I saw how Foltest and his boy spoke to you. Why help those who won’t listen?”

Triss didn’t answer his question. Instead, she eyed the bridge, the guards still standing there, and sighed. “I’m sure someone as legendary as you has already figured several ways to get past Segelin’s guards.”

The witcher grunted, inspected the ground between him and me, picked up a rock as big as a fist and held it out to the sorceress, before hurling it onto the bridge behind the guards. It landed with a loud thud that reverberated in the gate. The guards jumped, and ran away, terrified that it might have been the cursed princess.

I chuckled and shook my head at how simple it had been. And I had suggested to cast a spell! But the closer we got to the gates, the more wary I grew. Death lay upon this castle like the shadow of night that would fall soon. Many had died in this palace, and a large part at the hands – or claws – of the striga.

The hallways were littered with bones, not even full skeletons – she must rip her victims apart. Triss led the way, the witcher and I following close behind. From time to time, Geralt rattled on the doors, seeing if they could be opened, they didn’t budge. 

“Temeria reeks of secrets. I could sense them,” the sorceress voiced what I had been thinking ever since we had come close to Vizima. “Just like I could these bodies before we entered. I imagine you sensed them too.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, didn’t display any reaction, but I nodded at the sorceress, humming in agreement.

She stopped in front of a large painting of two children, the prince – now king – and the princess – the striga’s mother, while Geralt, again, rattled a door, finding it barred closed.  
“Foltest and Adda,” Triss mumbled, “What happened to them? Not answering questions is a pillar of your brooding charm.”

Even though Triss’ meant it as a sarcastic remark, I had to agree. Geralt was quiet, but the two of us didn’t need to many words to communicate, and I loved him for it. It meant that we knew the other like we knew ourselves.

He tore his eyes off the painting, and stared at Triss for a moment, before stating to walk down the hallway. “Pretty sure Foltest is the father.”

We walked up a set of stairs and finally reached a room that could be opened. It was large, but not less rampaged than the rest of the castle.

“Adda’s bedroom,” Triss piped up as we were looking around. “Do you think he cursed her? Foltest?”

“Maybe.”

The inspection of the room brought little. There were claw marks on the floor, meaning the striga had been in here once. Geralt stood at the foot of the bad, inhaling deeply. His witcher-senses letting him know what had happened in there a long time ago. 

A tune started playing and I turned my head towards the sorceress. She had found a music box. One tone, though, was out of tune. Something was hidden in there. And soon enough, Triss pulled a stack of letters from a hidden compartment.

“Geralt,” she called for the witcher’s attention, seemingly already knowing she had mine, “Letters. From Queen Sancia, Foltest and Adda’s mother.”

Having enough information, we left the abandoned castle and returned to the sorceress’ chambers, careful to avoid being seen by the guards. She had us wait in there as she got the noble from the miners’ town; he seemed to be some sort of advisor to the king. He read the letters carefully. Once he was done, he spoke up. 

“A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair. This could destroy the throne.”

“Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child,” Geralt grumbled from his place, leaning against the wall, with me right next to him – as always.

“It seems she refused. Repeatedly,” Triss added.

“And now she’s taken that curse with her to the grave.” The lord sounded defeated.

“You’ve served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?” Triss inquired.

“No. Of course not.” That answer came way too quick.

Geralt must have noticed too; that and whatever he had discovered in Adda’s bedroom.

“What was your relationship to Adda?” he asked.

“Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant. A protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve.” 

Why did I get a feeling that he wasn’t telling us everything?

“She ever mentioned her brother?” the witcher questioned.

“Certainly not like this.” The noble seemed to be taken aback by that question, his eyes widening, and he took a few seconds to answer.

“She was ashamed,” Triss argued.

“Or she was frightened,” the noble alleged. “What if their relationship was not… consensual?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed. “You think he raped Adda and then cursed the child to cover it up?” he didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, kings did more for less,” the noble rushed out.

“True,” my husband sighed, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to the noble. “There’s only one wrinkle, though.” He stepped so close that he was practically hovering above the shorter man. “Your scent was on her sheets,” he growled. 

Behind him, Triss said his name with a warning undertone. I didn’t do anything, just watched. I knew about the witcher’s tactics, and that he’d never use violence if it wasn’t needed or deserved – Jaskier was the best example for that.

“Old ones…” he continued growling, “and new ones.”

“What would I be doing in a dead girl’s bed?” the noble didn’t meet the witcher’s eyes.

Geralt leaned in even closer, growling directly into the noble’s ear. “I smelled what you were doing.” 

When he pulled back, the noble looked terrified, his whole body trembling, not with fear but with anger.

“Foltest had no right!” he yelled. With a grunt Geralt turned his back to the screaming man and walked back to where I was standing. 

“He seduced Adda. Abused his position,” the yelling continued. “He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn’t love her. I did.”

“You cursed the woman you loved?” Triss demanded.

“I cursed Foltest, not her.”

“Countless are dead because of your jealousy.”

“Countless are dead because of Foltest! He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill the striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face.”

“If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair,” Triss argued.

“And hurt Adda? Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I’m alive to protect it.”

“Tell us how to lift the curse,” Geralt ordered.

“No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me.”

My husband’s signature hum was heard as he stepped up to the noble again. With a quick movement he punched the noble square in the jaw, knocking him out.


	24. Two Curses Lifted in one Night

Triss ran to tell the king everything we had learned. I helped Geralt prepare for tonight. He’d be on his own, and I didn’t like that one bit.

“I could go with you,” I had suggested. 

And he had held my face gently between his two large hands, gazing lovingly yet intently into my eyes. “No. You’ll stay here. It’s too dangerous. And your curse… if I’m distracted even a fraction of a second, it’ll be the death of both of us. I won’t let that happen, Nienna. I promise you, I’ll be careful.”

That was the end of our discussion.

As night fell, I accompanied him almost all the way to the abandoned castle, the pit in my abdomen returned and I gasped. Even with the task ahead of him, he was more concerned about my wellbeing. He stopped and grabbed my arms.

“Nienna,” he stared into my eyes. “Go back. Maybe Triss can help you. I’ll be fine.”

“But-“

“No, go back. I love you, don’t forget that. Whatever happens tonight, my love, just remember that.”

The tone of his voice made me anxious. “I love you too. Be safe,” I choked out.

He smiled down at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes, as they were filled with pain. One hand left my arm and softly caressed my cheek, pulling me in for a deep kiss, full of love and desperation. As he pulled back, I stood there for a while with my eyes closed. When I opened them, Geralt had turned as he made his way towards the castle and the striga. A tear slipped from my eye as I watched him, praying to every god I knew that it wouldn’t have been the last time we have seen each other.

When I saw the guards leave from the bridge in front of the castle, I quickly turned and returned to Triss’ chambers, not wanting to be confronted with the king and his guards – they probably still thought little of me for being half elven, and I couldn’t deal with their insults or anything right now. All my thoughts were occupied with my husband and the fact he might die tonight.

The sorceress had been friendly enough to offer me a place to stay until – or if, but I didn’t really want to think about that possibility – Geralt returned.

So I sat in the room, shaking from worry about my husband and the cramping in my abdomen, silent tears escaping my eyes ever so often as I stared into a flame of a candle, having lost focus a long time ago. I didn’t notice the young sorceress sit down next to me until she spoke up.  
“What is it? With you and the Witcher?” she asked softly.

“I’m his wife,” I said with a shaky voice void of emotion.

Triss seemed surprised at that. “I thought witchers have no feelings. At least that’s what everybody says.”

“Absolute bullshit,” I muttered, “He feels more than most humans.”

“How so?” By now, Triss was trying to distract me.

“You may have noticed,” I began, “I’m half elven. After the Great Cleansing, I found a small town in Aedirn to live in. I worked as healer. The people discovered I was an elf and after years of me helping them, curing their sick, they hired a witcher to kill me, claiming I was poisoning their children with my elixirs and potions. When Geralt came, he didn’t kill me, he saw that the villagers were lying. He took me with him. That was twelve years ago. We’ve been travelling together since, falling for each other was just a matter of time, and three years ago, we finally got married. We- ah!” a sharp pain ripped through my lower body and my vision went black for a second.

“Are you alright? What is it?” Triss exclaimed as I fell to the floor, curling up in foetal position – over the months, I had discovered that it helped best with the cramps.

“A witch,” I gasped out, “Cursed me. Some spell to make… me feel… like a dog… in heat. But if I… have sex… I’ll die.”

Triss remained calm while I was practically writhing on her floor. “Can you stand?” she seemed to be experienced in matters of emergency. It made me feel safe, in good hands.  
I got up on shaky legs; she led me over to a bed and helped me sit down.

“How long have you been in this state?” she was all professional now, mixing together different ingredients for a remedy. Calm and focused, smelling on herbs and bottles, before shaking her head and setting it aside, or giving a small hum and adding it to the kettle.

“Three months.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?!” 

“I… I didn’t know what… Today… today is the worst it had ever been.”

She returned fixing the potion, chanting something in elder speech, but my brain was too clouded to pay attention. After what felt like hours, Triss turned back around, holding a bowl filled with a steaming, reddish liquid. It smelled… flowery? Not how I imagined a potion with the intended effect to smell.

“Here, drink this. You’ll sleep for a few hours, and hopefully, the curse will be lifted. You’re lucky it’s a full moon tonight,” she whispered, smiling at me and leading the bowl to my lips. My hands were shaking too much for me to drink on my own.

When she lowered the now empty bowl, I peered up at her, already feeling tired. 

“Why are you helping me?” I slurred.

“It’s the least I can do. No amount of coin could repay Geralt for risking his life the way he does for the king, maybe healing his wife will be at least a start,” she whispered, softly stroking some stray hair out of my forehead. “Sleep now.”

“Thank you,” I whispered and fell into a dreamless sleep, but my whole body felt like it was on fire, then as if I was trapped in ice. My body felt like it was being torn apart in every possible way, until suddenly I felt nothing. I heard a chanting voice, whispering in elder speech. It were the same words Triss had chanted while fixing the potion. I still couldn’t understand what she said, though. A comfortable numbness, as if I was floating, followed. A warm tingling sensation spread throughout my body, and I was starting to regain consciousness. With a gasp, I sat up. It was still dark out, shortly before sunrise.

“Geralt!” I whispered and hastily got out of bed.

It startled the sorceress, who had fallen asleep on the chair next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” she questioned sleepily.

“Preparing everything to get him out as sunrise,” I said matter-of-factly, stuffing bandages into my backpack, strapping my sword to my back – just in case.

“I’ll have the guards get a gurney ready and come to the castle as soon as possible,” Triss said as she rushed out of the room. I followed her, but soon our ways parted as I ran towards the abandoned castle through the still dark night.

On the horizon, the sun lit the sky with its first beams, just as I reached the castle-bridge. The striga’s screeching could be heard from miles away – at least with my elven ears. The screeching stopped suddenly, and the crowing of a rooster sounded from the town in the distance. I rushed into the castle, trusting my senses to find Geralt – I felt he was still alive, heard his slow heartbeat though the palace.

Sudden screeching made me pick up my pace even more. I heard struggling, panting, groaning. Was it possible that the striga hadn’t been cured? I practically ran down the hallways now, my blade drawn. My husband may have wanted to save the princess, but if she had killed him, and was going to charge at me, I’d strike her down without a second thought.

It still took some time to find the crypt in the labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Once I reached the room, Geralt was lying in the middle, next to a pillar; no trace of the striga – or princess. He was covered in blood and dirt, but I was used to see him like that. What made my stomach turn and my heart drop, however, was the fact that blood was pouring out of his mouth – and not just a little. I wanted to rush to him, but a sound stopped me. I whipped around to find the source of the mixture of the whimper and hiss, my blade raised, and spotted a young girl, covered in mud, dirt and blood, holding her neck. She was cowering against the wall. The princess looked terrified.

I lowered my blade and walked a semicircle towards my husband. He’d need medical attention first, seeing the state he was in.

“I won’t hurt you. Let me help him,” I pleaded, not knowing if the girl would pounce. “I’ll help you too, if you let me. You must be in pain.” I kept my voice as calming as possible, holding my hands out in a soothing gesture. She seemed to calm down a little, seeing that I was no threat, clutching to the wound on her neck. 

I fell to my knees next to Geralt and took in the whole extend of the damage on both his body and his armour. The leather was completely torn at the side of his neck, claw marks clearly visible. Underneath, hard to see with the black material of the witcher’s tunic, blood spilled. Moving the fabric aside, a huge bite-mark was revealed, deep and nearly gushing blood. Only a little less was spilling from his lips.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck! Stay with me! Geralt!” I wailed, cradling his bloodied face with one hand and pulling bandages from my bag with the other.

I heard footsteps approaching, as I pressed the bandage to the wound, trying to somehow stop the bleeding.

Triss stormed into the crypt, stopping when she saw me hovering over my seemingly lifeless husband.

“He’s alive,” I said, worry and relief lacing my voice. “Take care of her!”

I heard how she slowly approached the princess, talking to the girl in her ever so calming voice. “I’m not here to hurt you. Let me help you.” I heard her mutter. She had the girl trust her in almost no time, covering her up with a blanket and having tended to her wound, she led the princess outside so the guards could bring in the gurney to get Geralt out and back to Triss’ chambers.

I don’t know what happened to the girl afterwards, as I refused to leave my husband’s side. The whole way from the old to the new castle, I walked next to him, cradling his limb hand in mine. He was going to be fine. I knew it; because Triss seemed to be an amazing healer, so the two of us would manage it. We had to. Otherwise, I didn’t know what to do with my life.


	25. Monsters and Money

It took three days for the wounds to heal, for the bleeding to fully stop. Triss and I worked day and night. It had taken almost two hours alone to clean Geralt from all the mud, so that the wounds wouldn’t infect. 

While Triss mixed potions, tinctures and salves, I washed my husband’s hair and stitched his wounds, especially the ones on his face. In all the time I’ve been with him, this must be the worst he’s ever looked after a hunt – even the golem-incident was only a minor injury to this. The striga had barely missed his artery when she bit his neck. If we hadn’t been there fast enough, he would have bled out.

We had tried to wake him, leaning over him and saying his name. To no avail. All he did was mutter one word, over and over. Renfri. There must be something more about her except the guilt he still felt for killing her.

After the second day, Triss and I took turns watching over the sleeping witcher, applying tinctures and changing bandages. Triss often used her breaks to run errands for the princess, organizing for her to stay at the nearby temple. 

At dawn of the third day, I, exhausted from being awake for two days, worry keeping me awake, finally collapsed on the bed next to Geralt. Even in my sleep, I heard him mutter the name over and over – Renfri.

I woke up a few hours later, Geralt next to me still asleep. His face was grimaced in pain; sweat a thin layer glossing his skin. The bandages had bled through again. I changed them, cleaning his wounds while Triss mixed another tincture.

“He heals nicely,” she mentioned as she glanced over my shoulder, taking in the extent of the injuries to adjust the amount of medicine needed.

“But not fast enough,” I mumbled, worry still prominent in my voice. He’d be fine, I knew that, but it would take a while. “Usually he heals faster.”

“Nienna,” the sorceress said, her calming voice serious as she held my shoulders, turning me around to face her. Her chocolate stare held mine. She had a reassuring smile on her face. “He is strong. You must know that better than anyone else. He will be fine. The fact that he’s alive must be proof enough. A human wouldn’t have survived.”

I sighed. She was right. But I couldn’t help but worry. It had been long since he had been injured that heavily. The last time had been the golem. That was three years ago. But still, seeing him like this hurt. Though his heartbeat and breathing told me otherwise, from how he looked he could also be dead.

There was only so much I could take. Tears welled up in my eyes and I pulled Triss closer, crumbling against her, as she understood. She hugged me tightly, whispering reassuringly. She didn’t judge; only let me cry my heart out. All the bottled up fear for my husband, still lying unconscious in the blood soaked bed, bursting out.

When I stopped crying, Triss helped me sit down on the bed, next to Geralt, as she applied the tincture onto Geralt’s wounds and bandaged his chest again. His wounds had stopped bleeding. From time to time, he’d cough up a little blood in his sleep, and I’d wipe it away. And over and over he muttered the name of the princess he couldn’t safe.

With one particularly loud mutter of ‘Renfri’, followed by a gasp, Geralt opened his eyes, struggling to find focus. He stared straight ahead, fixed on the sorceress with her back towards him.

He groaned and grunted in pain and confusion, his hand touching his bandaged neck. I rushed to his side, cupping his face and caressing softly, calming him.

“Shh. You’re safe, minne. You’re fine. Everything is fine,” I whispered soothingly, softly kissing his forehead. Triss gave us some time before she spoke up.

“Your scars. You heal quite nicely. Your will to live is strong. I can see why.” She glanced at me when she said the last sentence. I nodded a ‘thank you’, a grateful smile on my lips.

“The princess?” Geralt rasped out. I held onto his hand, rubbing soothing circles with my thumb, tears of relief blurring my vision.

“I’ve arranged for her to stay a while with the Sisters of Melitele.” 

“But… I… Her neck?” worry laced his weak voice.

“She’ll heal, too,” Triss assured.

Relieved, Geralt let his head fall back into the pillows. I caressed his face, smiling down at him.

“You gave us quite a scare,” I whispered, “Any other man would be dead. I thought you’d…” I couldn’t finish the sentence I choked out, tears already spilling from my eyes.

“I’m here, love. It’s alright,” he rasped out, his voice weak and scratchy from not using it in days. With one last squeeze, I let go of his hand and got off the bed to get him a cup of water.

“You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honourable Lord Ostritt gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering all for a statue.”

Geralt lay in silence for a while. I returned to his side, helping him drink the cool liquid. Triss only watched us, leaning against her desk.

With a grunt then, Geralt attempted to sit up. I helped him, whispering to him, “You’ve lost a lot of blood, minne. Take it slow.”

But one glance told me: he couldn’t. Roach and Shadow had been alone for too long, we had to get back to them as soon as possible.

“Anyone else would’ve killed the princess. You chose not to,” the sorceress pondered, but Geralt didn’t respond, pulling on his boots.

“I’ll take the coin now,” he grumbled instead. “We need to get back to our horses.”

Triss turned, grabbing the coin-purse. “Who’s Renfri?” she asked with her back turned to us.

The witcher tensed up, halted his actions and stared at Triss.

“Hers was the only name you uttered over and over in your sleep,” she explained. “One would think a man would mumble his wife’s name, but you didn’t.”

Again, Geralt did not respond. “My coin.” I heard it in the changed tone of his voice: defeat, guilt. I stroked his arm reassuringly, then got up to get his new tunic, issued by the sorceress.

“So that’s all life is to you. Monsters and money. Well, besides Nienna…” I heard Triss say from the other side of the room.

“It’s all it needs to be. It’s more than I ever wanted, and so much more than I deserve.” A grumble.

That wasn’t true. He deserved so much more than I could ever give him, and I dedicated my every day to try. I walked back to the bed, tunic in hand, and sat down next to my husband, just as the sorceress sat down on the chair at the foot of the bed.

“You say this is all life is to you…” She said, handing him the coin-purse, “but there is a vortex of fate around all of us, Geralt, growing with each and every one of our choices… drawing our destinies in closer.”

Tentatively he pulled something from the purse. It was Renfri’s broach. He had given it away?

“I feel something out there waits for you. Something more.”

The witcher looked at her sceptically. It hurt to see he still thought of himself as if he was nothing. What Triss had said… yeah, I felt it as well, faintly, though, but it was there. And I also felt that whatever Renfri had told Geralt, it was somehow connected with what the sorceress just said.

She left us alone for a little, giving us some privacy as I helped Geralt get dressed. He complained he could do it alone, but with the wound between his neck and shoulder, I wouldn’t let him.

As an extra on the payment, the king had Geralt’s armour be repaired, so once he slipped it on we were good to go.

Triss accompanied us to the castle gates, to say goodbye.

“Take care of yourselves,” she smiled at us.

“Yeah, uh, you too,” Geralt grumbled, eager to get back to our horses. It would be a two-days march.

I pulled her into a hug. “Thank you… for everything,” I whispered. In the time we had waited for Geralt to wake up, we had gotten to know each other better. I had told her about my mother’s lessons, and Triss had taught me a little more, mostly to distract me from worrying. One of the things she’d taught me was how to make a portal, and I actually learned that very quickly. Though, I’ve never used one. But I could conjure it. That was something.

The sorceress hugged back. “It’s nothing,” she smiled, “stay safe.” 

“You too. I’ll see if I can send letters. Goodbye, Triss,” I said as we parted.

Geralt took my hand in his and we started walking down the road. After a few miles, it was growing dark, I spoke up. 

“You know if we used a portal, it’d so much faster.”

He tensed up. “No. No portals,” he pressed out.

“Why?” I turned to look at him, seeing he was pale as a sheet, an almost terrified look on his face.

“I… I don’t like them.”

“You mean you’re scared of them.” I cocked a brow. Had I just found something – after twelve years – that the brave White Wolf, like Jaskier liked to call him, was afraid of.

Geralt glared at me, but then his expression changed and he inhaled deeply. 

“You’re… Nienna, are you still in pain? You smell… normal again.”

I beamed at him. “Triss lifted the curse.”

At that, he stopped, grabbed my waist and spun me around, wincing when his wound screamed at him. He set me down, pulled me close and kissed me.

While he was distracted, I let a portal appear beneath our feet, taking us right in front of the inn we stayed at. Startled, Geralt took a step back, holding on to the wall next to him. He was pale; paler than when I had mentioned the word ‘portal’. I snickered slightly at him, seeing how scared he was at such a small thing. He fought monsters, for crying out loud.

“Don’t ever,” he panted out, “do that again!”

“Or what?” I challenged.

“Or…” he stopped to think about what would be the right punishment. The go-to, no sex, wouldn’t work. I had spent three whole without anyone touching me; and let’s be real, it had been harder on him. “Ah, forget it. Just don’t do it again!” he waved off, going inside to pay the debt to the innkeeper.

All the while I went to the stables to prepare the horses. We’d ride the night through. Nothing would make us stay at this place for any longer than we needed to.


	26. Make This House a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dunno, the first part could be a little boring, but geralt being excited about becoming domestic (at least for a little while) was too cute not to write.  
> most of this is smut, tho.  
> also, i think, the longest chapter i've ever written, so enjoy ;)

The ride was quiet. After hours of silence, Geralt spoke up. “Something’s bothering you, my love.”

I turned towards him. “I… it’s nothing.” I smiled at him sadly.

“No, tell me. You know you can tell me everything,” he pressed, gently though.

I sighed. “I know, minne. It’s just… it’s not important. It’ll never happen.”

He stopped Roach. The mare let out a huff. She was cold. Stopping would make her more cold. I, too, stopped Shadow, the same reaction came from her.

“No, tell me. The way you look… it is important… to me.” he stared into my eyes and I finally caved in.

“It’s just…” I huffed, “In the years we’ve been together, we have risked our lives constantly. Alone in the past three years, you’ve been in three situations that could have coasted your life. I… I want it to stop. To settle down. But I know you can’t. The people need you. I’ve accepted that, the moment I realized I loved you; but I can’t help but wish we would have never left my cottage.”

Geralt was quiet for a moment, processing what I had confessed to him. I couldn’t read his expression, not even his thoughts; his face gave less than nothing away. Then, slowly, a smile stretched out on his face. 

“You know… it would be nice to have a place to look forward to return to,” he said. “Did you have a place in mind?”

After a short moment of thinking, I nodded. “Sodden. It’s quite central, and the people are more open-minded, at least more than in Aedirn,” I told him.

“Then let us go there. Surely I can find a job there.”

“First you’ll need to heal. And then, you deserve a break. Let your wife pamper you, for once.”

By the next morning, we reached a town in the outskirts of Temeria. We stayed at the inn until Geralt had healed completely, letting me bathe and massage him. He was tired. I mean, by now, he was eighty-three years old, he deserved some gods damn rest!

Once he was healed we travelled further south, through Sodden, looking for a perfect place to settle down. We found it after about a week. It was in the south of Sodden, close to the Cintran border.

The spot really was perfect. A field, between two small, friendly villages – yes we had visited both, and no one even glanced twice at my ears, or gave Geralt weird looks – a creek blubbering along the seam of a nice little forest. From behind the trees, I could hear the rushing of a small waterfall.

During the time we had searched for exactly this spot, we had talked a lot about how our house should look like, what we’d need: a barn and paddock for the horses, chicken-coop and fences for the animals we’d keep, a garden to grow herbs and vegetables, and much more.

It was adorable how exited Geralt was about all this. My heart grew a few sizes when he jumped off of Roach’s back, ran over to me, pulled me from my trusty steed and, with joy written over his whole face, declared “This is the spot!” while spinning me around.

But we wouldn’t build a house, oh no. I think, even though Geralt could almost do everything, having lived a huge part of his life alone, building a house probably wasn’t one of them.

So, instead – even though it would cost a lot of strength – I would conjure it. This would take a few days, I couldn’t do it in one sitting, but at least it would stand, and not collapse – at least that was how I like to tease Geralt.

So, on the first day, I conjured the foundation, the second the floors, roof and windows, third furniture, fourth the garden, fences, and all we’d need for the animals, and on the fifth all we’d need to make a home out of this house.

The house wasn’t large, but had enough room to have guests stay – or, if we were able to, grow as a family. It had two kitchens, one to cook and eat, and one for my potions, to serve like a healer’s room, two bedrooms, a big washroom and modest hall, where we’d sit if we had guests.

The best thing about magic is that you can have a nice home, even though you only have little money.

Once the house was completely done, we admired it from outside, proud smiles on both of our faces. Even though we couldn’t live here forever, never leaving to hunt, this would be a safe haven. As a last trick, Geralt put a spell over the whole place – one that had its root in the witchers’ magic – that it could not be found by anyone who wanted to hurt us.  
With a huge smile – still a rare sight –, my husband picked me up bridal-style and carried me into the house and all the way up into our bedroom, letting me plop down onto the bed unceremoniously. I giggled the whole way, and even more so when he climbed on top of me and started tickling my sides. He didn’t stop until I was out of breath, my laughs becoming wheezes. Then he flopped down next to me and pulled me close, kissing me deeply. I could practically taste his joy.

To be honest, I had never thought that Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, subject of many songs (thanks to a certain bard) would be this excited about becoming domestic.  
Soon our kisses grew more passionate and Geralt climbed back on top of me, between my opened legs, trapping me beneath his body. We tugged and touched at each other, pieces of clothing being dropped next to the bed one after one. When Geralt sat up to pull off his tunic, he stayed like this a little, admiring my bare body underneath him. It had been almost four months now since he’d last seen me like this. His eyes were full of adoration, the intensity of his stare making me melt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

I sat up as well, our exposed chests pressing together, one of my arms snaked around the back of his neck, the other hand caressing the toned muscles of his chest.

“Hmm. You’re not so bad yourself, me minne,” I whispered teasingly, biting my lip, and I shifted a little, climbing fully onto his lap, grinding my still clothed heat against his trapped length. It elicited a groan from both of us and Geralt grabbed onto my hips, holding them still.

“Don’t do that,” he directed sternly, need lacing his voice.

“Do what?” I asked innocently, sweetly, but barely hiding my need for him.

“Stop teasing. It’s been so long since I felt you, if you keep that up, I won’t last.”

He was one to talk! He, at least, was able to find relief somehow, while I had been horny for three months straight with no way to put out the blazing pit in my stomach.  
Even though I needed him just as much as he needed me, I decided to mess with him a little. Plus, this man deserved to be worshipped, even if it meant he’d need to wait. No, wait: he was made to be worshipped; just look at him! He is perfect.

In false defeat, I let him lie me back down, pulling him in for a kiss when he was hovering over me. With a quick movement, I rolled us over, so I was on top, slowly kissing and nipping my way from his lips to his neck, to his chest and further down, kissing every inch, my fingers ghosting over his skin, caressing every scar, taking my sweet time. I took in his manly scent: leather, a hint of my strawberry soap and - what could only be described as - him. My teasing actually made him shudder with anticipation – something he had me doing constantly, but I achieved rarely. It shot straight to my core, soaking my panties.

He reached out, tried to grab me by the shoulders to pull me towards him, but I escaped his grasp, sitting up, straddling his knees.

“So impatient,” I tutted.

He glared at me, by now wanting nothing more than to fuck me into the mattress until the sun rose again, but he’d have to wait.

His glare twisted to a grimace of pleasure when I palmed him through his trousers, one hand undoing the buttons. He was rock hard already, hot and pulsing, even through the leather of his trousers. With the opening of the last button, his cock sprung free, seeming so much larger to my sex-deprived brain than the last time I’ve seen him. His size always, even after all these years, shocked me a little, and I’d never get used to the delicious stretch it caused. 

Quickly, I pulled the trousers off his legs and flung it somewhere into the room, not caring where it landed.

When I came back up, originally having planned to continue with my sweet torture, Geralt grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into bed, moving to hover above me once again.

“I told you to spot teasing,” he growled out next to my ear, then sucked at the tender skin right where jaw and neck meet.

I mewled at the feeling of him above me, trapping me between him and the bed, reminding me of his strength. I let go of a gasping breath as his lips travelled further down my neck, teasing me in the same way I had teased him only a few minutes ago. My hands flew to his hair, tugging on the leather band that held the upper layer out of his face, letting his silky mane fall freely for me to run my hands through. He groaned when I tugged on his white strands, the sound vibrating against my pulse point as he sucked a hickey.  
He was overwhelming. It had been too long since we last made love, and even if we hadn’t really stared yet, it was almost too much for me to take. Breathy moans escaped my lips with every kiss, every touch of his hands. I was shaking and writhing just from his lips on my neck, soaking my panties with my arousal.

I gasped out when I felt something wet flick over my pebbled nipple and my eyes shot open. They were met with the sight of Geralt sucking on the rosy bud, golden eyes, darkened with desire, staring into my own. His hand came up to my other breast, massaging it, clouding my brain.

I threw my head back onto the soft pillows, it all becoming too much.

“No… teasing!” I panted out.

It earned myself a throaty laugh from my husband, kissing down my stomach, saying one word after each kiss in the husky voice that made me want to press my thighs together if it weren’t for him preventing it. “You… know… you… love… it.”

Yeah, that was true. I loved the way he knew my body, driving me to the brink of insanity, before giving in to what we both desperately needed - this man had some patience, I tell you! And he loved seeing what he could do to me, making me almost fall apart with just his fingers on my skin, driving me crazy. In these moments, he felt more powerful than the victory over any beast could ever make him feel. I loved that too, how cocky he could get when I was begging for him.

A soft tug on the waistband of my panties brought me back to reality. I lifted my hips a little and Geralt pulled the fabric off my body, throwing it over his shoulder. I watched him as he took in the sight of my glistening folds in front of him, staring like a starving man.

I couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Minne, you’re drooling.”

Geralt’s eyes shot to mine, and, with a smirk, he dipped his head down to where I needed him the most, peppering soft kisses to my mound, dark, golden eyes still locked onto mine, staring at me for my reaction.

And what a sight I was! Almost pathetic. Mouth hanging open, breaths coming out in short pants, hands reaching for my husband’s hair, hips bucking up to get him to go lower. 

And when he finally did, planting a soft kiss onto my aching clit, I cried out, trying not to throw my head back – I wanted to watch him working between my thighs.

The sight alone could have sent me over the edge, to be honest: this beast of a man, nuzzled between my thighs, golden eyes of a predator peering up at me, his face contorted to a grimace of pure indulgence as he lapped at me like I was the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. It was pure sin. He was pure sin.

He was licking long stripes along my slit, always stopping right in front of my clit, never touching it. It drove me crazy.

“Mhh,” he hummed against my lower lips, igniting the smouldering heat in my stomach to a blazing fire, “You taste… amazing… Been… way too… long.”

“Uh-huh,” I whimpered out, a string of moans following when Geralt finally sucked my clit into his mouth, letting his tongue roll over it slowly. He was pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My legs were shaking and I was struggling to keep eye contact.

Just as the flame in my belly was about to explode, he pulled back, slowly kissing his way up my body, careful not to apply any pressure on my heat.

I whimpered at the loss of him and shot him a glare, my hazy state making it difficult. Geralt chuckled and I pouted. He kissed me sweetly on the lips, making me taste my own juices as his tongue snaked its way into my mouth. I moaned into the kiss and Geralt shifted, lifting my leg to rest against his hip. His other hand came parted my lower lips swiping through them, before taking hold of his length, teasing my entrance.

“You’re so wet. So wet, for me,” he growled huskily. Gods, how I loved it when he got possessive.

“Yes, for you, only for you. Please, please, I need you!” I more or less whimpered out, his teasing having finally brought me to the point of begging.

He let himself drop to his forearm, dipping his head down to capture my lips in a long kiss as he slowly eased into my core, catching my cries of pleasure in his mouth, as I caught his groans.

The stretch was intense, my body had almost forgotten his size, it almost hurt, but the pain was good, it kept me on edge, reminded me whom I was with: Geralt of Rivia, a witcher, my witcher, my husband, a mountain of a man, but the softest, most gentle man I’ve ever came across.

Once he was completely sheathed within me, he pulled his head back a little, resting his forehead against mine, letting me adjust while we both panted lightly.

“I love you,” I whispered, carding my hand though his hair, cupping his cheek with the other, grazing his cheekbone softly with my thumb.

He gazed into my eyes, golden orbs full of tenderness, then leaned down to kiss me sweetly once again. “I love you too,” he murmured against my lips.

I felt him pulse within me, and rolled my hips against his, by now having adjusted to his size. His lips stayed where they were, planted onto mine, as he pulled his hips back slowly and pushed back in, just as slowly. He didn’t pick up the pace, just kept thrusting into me, slow and deep, my hips meeting every of his thrusts.

It was sweet and gentle, as we savoured each other, finally being able to let enjoy the other fully, not having to fear that someone could burst into the room at any given moment, or a wild animal or even monster attacking us in the wild. No, here it was only the two of us, with no one around to interrupt us. And we intended to make full use of that.

Geralt even rolled onto his back, letting me take control. I took full advantage of the new position, angling my hips slightly different so the head of his length would brush against that spot within me. My hands were on his stomach for balance, my fingers tracing the lines of his toned abs, as I rolled my hips in slow, circular motions.

My mouth hang open in a loose ‘o’-shape, my head thrown back, as I rode him slowly, coaxing sounds of pleasure from both of us.

My husband held onto my hip, not obstructing my movement, he needed something to hold onto as he stared up at me.

The pit inside me was blazing now, the coil threatening to explode any time now. I let myself drop onto Geralt’s broad chest, and he rolled back over, continuing with our slow pace, but letting his thrusts become even deeper, more powerful. I held onto his hair for dear life, tugging at the silvery white strands, eliciting pleasured groans from him as he had me writhing and moaning underneath him, racing towards the edge.

He angled his hips a little, finding that spot inside me and I cried out. With long, deep strokes, he thrusted right into that spot, making my moans rise higher and higher in pitch and my walls clench around him. I felt him twitch inside me. We were both close, so very close. 

His groans grew louder, and so did my moans, as, with a few forceful, deep thrusts, he sent me over the edge, the coil in my belly exploding into hot white pleasure, my walls fluttering around him wildly, clamping down on him, at the intensity of my orgasm. My release triggered his own and he spilled his seed into me with a deep roar of pleasure, continuing to rock his hips into mine, prolonging our shared high as my walls milked him to the last drop. 

When we both stopped seeing stars, he pulled out and collapsed on top of me, his head nuzzled between my breasts. I smiled down at him tenderly, letting my fingers run through his silky white mane. He hummed appreciatively, letting his eyes fall shut.

“I love this house already,” he mumbled against my skin.

Smiling, I let my eyes wander around the dimly lit room, then focusing back on my husband. “It’s home,” I whispered, letting my head sink back into the pillows and close my eyes, soft snoring lulling me into sleep.


	27. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pure domestic fluff. a little bit of play fighting. kinda a filler-chapter, the next few chapters will be, i have six years to fill in before we move on to Cintra and the banquet.
> 
> enjoy <3 :)

I woke up to light shuffling, and opened my eyes to see Geralt roll off me carefully. It was dark outside, deep night.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered through the darkness.

“It’s alright, minne. Actually, I’m a little hungry, we only had breakfast today, remember?” I chuckled, climbing out of the bed and slipped on the first piece of clothing I could find – my husband’s tunic, for me a short dress, “I’ll go make dinner. Can you check up on the horses?”

Humming in agreement, Geralt got up and went to search for his trousers, which I had carelessly thrown into the room earlier. He cursed under his breath when he bumped his head against the sloping of the roof. I pressed my lips together to stifle a giggle, and with a snap of my fingers, lit all the candles we had sat up all over the house earlier.

A soft golden glow illuminated the room. Geralt finally found his trousers – in the far corner of the room. 

“Next time just drop them,” he chuckled as he pulled them on.

“Then I ask for you to do the same,” I giggled, trying to retrieve my underwear from where he had thrown it – my panties were dangling from a wooden beam supporting the roof.

I stood on my tip toes, struggling to reach them. Chuckling, my husband walked over to where I was standing, his hand resting against the beam. 

“I won’t,” he smirked down at me, watching me struggle. “This is just too adorable.” He finally gave the fabric a little push, letting it fall right into my hands.

I pouted. “Arse,” I muttered, slipping into my panties.

From in front of me, Geralt chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll go see after the horses,” he mumbled, pecked my lips quickly and walked down the stairs. 

I followed after him, going into the kitchen. I wasn’t really going to cook, though – we didn’t have any groceries – so I only got out bowls and conjured some bread and stew, and a pitcher of ale.

He came back in, just as I finished setting up the table and was cutting the bread. He was smiling softly to himself.

“I think Roach and Shadow like it here as well. They are sleeping, cuddled together,” he mumbled as he came up behind me, grabbed my waist softly and turned me around to plant a soft kiss to my lips. Smiling into the kiss, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Our lips melted together, moving in complete sync.

He pulled back after a while, resting his forehead against mine. Carefully, I peered up at him. His eyes were closed and he had a soft smile on his face.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, moving my hands to cup his cheeks. He opened his eyes, nuzzling into my touch.

“I love you more,” he muttered.

“More than Roach?” I teased, playfully smiling at him.

“Not a chance. I may have married you, but that horse is my soulmate,” he teased back.

Playing offended, I pulled back, walking past him to sit down at the table. “Fine, then go, be happy together,” I huffed out, exaggerating, but failing miserably at hiding my giggles.

“Now, come on, before it gets cold,” I added in my normal voice.

Letting out an amused huff, he sat down and we dug in. 

“We need to go to town tomorrow. We need a lot of stuff,” I mentioned casually, as if I’ve done it many times before.

Geralt hummed for me to continue.

“Vegetables and seeds I can plant. Also herbs… Livestock; a few chickens and maybe a goat or sheep, or two. I doubt we could keep a cow here.”

When no answer came, I looked up at him. Geralt was staring at me, still smiling.

“What?” I chirped.

“Nothing… it’s just… this is perfect. I wish we’d never have to leave this place,” he marvelled.

“We don’t have to. Not for a while. This is our home now. Even if we leave for a hunt, we’ll always return. That is what home means, minne.”

We finished our dinner in comfortable silence. When we were done, I just waved my hand over the bowls, and they were clean.

Now that I didn’t have to save my energy for a possible fight, I could use magic more often. Thank the gods! Otherwise, I would be completely overwhelmed throwing the household alone - in times when Geralt left for hunts, of course. I had no doubt he’d help a lot around the house, seeing how excited he’d been all these weeks since I had revealed my wish to him.

It was late, way past midnight, when we put out all candles downstairs and returned to our bedroom. I sat down at the small dressing table, brushing out my tousled sex-hair till it flowed down my back like silk again, and put it in a braid. Geralt was leaning against a pole of our bed, watching me.

“Come here,” I ordered gently, turning around to face him as he walked over. I motioned for him to sit on the ground in front of me, his shoulders resting between my knees. I combed my fingers through his tangled locks, massaged his scalp. He closed his eyes and let a deep content hum escape his lungs. When all of the big knots were out of his hair, I picked up the brush again, letting it run through his hair – or at least I tried. There were still an awful lot of small knots in his hair. At first, he only hissed at the ripping sensation, but soon enough, he tried to yank his head away.

I must confess, I snorted. 

“Stop moving, it’ll only hurt more,” I chided. “Gods, one could think you’ve never brushed your hair!”

“I did! With my fingers. That’s enough. All you’re doing is ripping out my hair!” he grumbled.

“Ohh, minne. Only brushing through it with your fingers obviously isn’t enough. Look at all these knots!”

“They’re only there because you like to bury your hands in them,” he argued back. It may all sounds serious, but I could barely hold back a laugh, and he couldn’t keep his smile from sounding into his voice.

“You love it when I do that,” I said matter-of-factly, letting my hands run through his, tugging slightly for emphasis. It elicited a small groan from him. Then he went silent in defeat. I smiled a little in victory and picked up the brush again.

“Now hold still, and I promise, I’ll be careful.”

“Hmm.”

“No reason to be grumpy, now,” I chuckled.

With a change of approach, the brushing went on peacefully. Instead of combing from the top, I brushed little strokes downward, starting close to the tips of his hair and worked my way towards the roots slowly. After about five minutes, Geralt’s hair was silky, and almost shiny in the dim candle light. Leaning over him, I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Are you done, now?” Geralt grumbled tiredly.

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“Good.” He got up and turned, pulling me up as well.

“Wait. What are y-“ I yelped as he threw me over his shoulder and carried me over to the bed, laying me down and then climbing in next to me. Geralt lay on his back and pulled me close for me to rest my head on his massive chest, right above his insanely slow heartbeat. It was even slower now than ever before - but not dangerously slow. He was, for the first time in all these years we’ve been together, completely calm, feeling entirely safe.

“Goodnight, my love,” his whisper rumbled through his chest.

I closed my eyes and smiled softly, turning my head slightly to kiss his chest gently. 

“Goodnight, me minne.”


	28. Like Our First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is a marriage without a little competition?? 
> 
> right, boring.

I woke up the next morning to birds chirping and soft sunlight streaming through the windows. All was peaceful, and for once, it didn’t mean that something was watching us, ready to pounce; the calm before the storm. No, this peace was meant to last. 

Lazily, I stretched and rolled back over to Geralt, moving even closer to him, climbing to lay completely on top of him, soaking up my husband’s warmth.

“Good morning,” he murmured sleepily. His raspy morning voice made me smile.

“Morning,” I mumbled back, lifting my head to press a lazy kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t you have plans for today?” he chuckled, attempting to move me off him.

I gripped onto him tightly.

“Noooo,” I whined, “You’re so warm.” I pressed myself even closer to him.

Defeated, Geralt let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

“You’re one hundred thirty years old,” he muttered slowly, “How about you act like it?”

“That’s not old,” I murmured back, “It’s like the human eviqua-“ tiredness slurred my voice “equivalent of twenty-five.”

“If you say so, my love,” my husband’s deep and warm voice rumbled through my ears. “But you wanted to go to the village. Not that I want to get up, but, if we don’t go there soon, all the good stuff will be gone.”

I groaned, not wanting to get off him, to leave his warmth, but realized he was right. I got up with a huff and walked into the washroom. Geralt followed, chuckling amused. We got washed up quickly, got dressed: Geralt in his usual clothes, minus the armour, and I in a simple dress I took from my old home. 

Still, both of us hid daggers in our boots – just in case. Even if neither of us was defenceless without a weapon, it filled us with an uneasy feeling to leave without carrying at least one. Making a living out of killing monsters and all… It really fucks with your head.

Once we were done, Geralt grabbed a coin purse, as I had already stormed outside, we saddled our horses and made our way to the village. I conjured some bread for breakfast. On our way, I went through all things we’d need – again.

“I think, I can find some herbs in the forest. But we still need to look out for some in the village. Gods, we’ll need so much. And not just to eat, we’ll need to plant a lot, t-“ I rambled.

Geralt, previously riding next to me with a smile on his face like a puppy following its mother and listening, interrupted my rambling with his deep, rough yet calming voice.  
“Why don’t we see what they have first, my love?”

I turned to him, slightly embarrassed, and nodded.

“Yeah… you’re probably right. It’s just… it’s been so long since I had to go to town to buy food. Before we met - before you broke into my cottage,” I smirked at the memory, “I had everything I needed in my garden.”

He tilted his head, a playful-offended look on his face. “I didn’t break into your cottage, the door was wide open,” he argued.

“Oh, please! I know I had closed that door. Hell, I had even bolted it,” I countered.

“You didn’t,” he smirked at me.

“I did! And even if I hadn’t, no one came to my house, anyway. They hated me, but were too scared to get close, remember? That was why they had you go to me.” I paused. “Did you sense me? That day.” My voice was small. All – even though it was played the whole time – anger forgotten.

“I did. Yes,” Geralt answered softly. He stared into my eyes, the tender expression charming his already handsome features.

“And you didn’t turn, didn’t look at me. Only when I threw that dagger…”

“You didn’t feel like a threat. Well, until you picked up that sword. But even then, you were a weak opponent,” he said, the cockiness of his smile flowing into his voice.

“Careful, mister, you taught me, afterwards. I have improved a lot since then, thanks to you,” I said in a playfully accusing tone.

Then, I spurred Shadow and galloped ahead.

“Woman,” I heard him mutter behind me – he was probably shaking his head – as I raced him to the village, the thunder of Roach’s hooves coming closer and closer, and I laughed. I was just so happy to escape from our life for some time. We could live like a normal couple, even if it was just for a short while.

Geralt caught up on me, raced ahead and blocked my path. I halted Shadow quickly. My husband had an arrogant look on his face now, smirking at me.

“If you’re so sure you can beat me, then let’s see when we get back. Loser has to do the laundry.”

I huffed. I would have had to do the laundry anyway. If he was convinced that he’d win, why not pick one of his chores?

“Okay,” I mumbled, “But let’s go, before everything’s gone.”

The village wasn’t big, but the soil around was rich, the farmers blessed with a large harvest almost every year. That being said, we had no trouble getting all the things we needed, the offer was plentiful.

One of the first things we bought – for exactly that reason – was a small donkey-drawn cart, including the donkey. The cart soon leaded with all kinds of vegetables: carrots, cabbage, beans, potatoes and so much more; everything I could plant, if it was for potions or to eat, we bought.

The people were friendly, they didn’t come after us and call us names when they noticed Geralt’s medallion or my ears, they didn’t judge. Still, Geralt held my hand the whole time, protectively, while eyeing the people around us suspiciously. I squeezed his hand reassuringly, and soon enough he relaxed.

At a few stalls, I had mentioned that I was a healer, and the people smiled welcoming, telling us that the last healer they had died a few years ago, so they were in desperate need of a new one. Smiling at how open-minded the people were around here, I told them where they’d find us, in case they needed a healer or a witcher.

After a few hours, we had everything we’d need: food, seeds to plant, things to run the household with (a wash basin for laundry) and so much more. We rode back home.

“So, ready to show me what you’ve got?” Geralt asked me, raising a brow playfully, once our house came in sight.

I turned towards him, smiling victoriously. “Don’t get me wrong, minne, I love you, but… I’ll fuck you up. Just let me go change quickly, then you’ll see…”

“Oh no. No, no, no. You chose to wear that dress today, now deal with the consequences,” he smirked back, jumping off Roach’s back. 

I hadn’t even noticed we had reached our house by now; I was too focused on Geralt. So, while he unloaded the cart – he wouldn’t let me help him – I went to fetch our swords. I leaned them against the wall next to the door, and then went to pull the saddle off my horse’s back, cleaning her from the dust that had caught in her fur. Shadow huffed appreciatively when I led her to the paddock connected to the barn. Geralt did the same with Roach and went to get his sword.

I followed him and grabbed my blade, running off to the open space in front of our home. Once in the open field, I tucked the hem of my skirt into my belt, making the dress shorter, so I wouldn’t stumble.

Geralt walked up to me slowly, chuckling, his swords lifted to attack. He stopped a good six feet in front of me. I raised my blade, staring to walk in a semicircle. 

“Loser does the laundry, huh? You seem quite convinced that you’ll win, minne,” I teased as we circled each other.

“I’m not convinced; I know I’ll win, my love. I’ve been fighting my whole life and you only for ten years,” he teased back. 

I knew his tactic; he was trying to get me to attack him first, giving him the advantage of blocking the first blow and using its strength to fight back. I wouldn’t grant him this advantage, though. He was the one to propose this fight, he could attack first.

Gods, this must sound awfully violent. ‘What happened, I thought you loved each other?’ Don’t get me wrong. We do, but a little competition never hurts. This fight… we weren’t going to actually hurt the other. It was more of a training. We’d both need that for when we had to leave again. 

We had circled each other for at least three times now, when Geralt finally lost his patience. He charged forward, delivering a clean downward swing. I could have blocked it, and pushed him back with the power of his impact, but I decided otherwise. So, instead, I spun out of his path, making his blow slice through the air. He stumbled slightly. I blew a little air through my nose, a laugh. 

Geralt turned and smirked at me, charging again. This time, I blocked and pushed him back. This went on for some time, the two of us dancing, metal scraping over metal. It continued until- 

“Hey!” I yelled, trying hard to hold back a giggle at my husband’s triumphant expression. He was too sure of himself. Geralt had knocked my blade out of my hand, sent it flying. He lowered his sword and started walking towards me. If he thought this fight was over…

I dived to the side, rolling over the ground, and landed right beside my sword. I grabbed it and jumped up again, ready to charge at my husband – gods, that sounds awful!  
But Geralt wouldn’t let me steal his victory so easily. Just as I stood on my feet again, I was pushed back, hitting the ground. Had he just used Aard on me?! If that’s how he wanted to play, fine. 

I waited till he stood above me, then reached my hand out and pushed him back with my magic. He hit the ground with a grunt and I jumped to my feet, pointing the tip of my blade to his chest.

“Do you yield?” I smirked cockily.

With a fast movement, Geralt jumped to his feet, already delivering the next blow. I blocked. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. 

“Never,” he growled out.

I spun and charged at him again. Our dance continued. I don’t know how we ended up here, but after some time, Geralt had be laying on my back again, my wrists locked tightly in his grip, next to my head. He was leaning in close.

“Thisfeels awfully familiar,” his voice rumbled through me, all competition vanished.

“Mhh,” I hummed in agreement, “yeah. But now I’m brave enough for something I wanted to do back then.”

“And what would that be?”

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

With a cocked brow, Geralt slowly loosened his grip on my wrist and I pulled them away from him quickly, cupping the sides of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Surprised, he kissed back, his one hand holding onto my waist, while the other arm supported his weight on his elbow.

I rolled us over, and with one hand reached for the dagger in my boot, but Geralt’s hand on my waist, reaching out for my wrist, stopped me.

“Oh no, no, no, love. You’ve lost,” he said firmly, pulling out of the kiss, rolling us back around.

I huffed, but gazed up at him, smiling, my free hand pulling him down to me again. “I wouldn’t consider this ‘losing’,” I muttered against his lips, as we let our tongues and lips continue or battle. Again, Geralt won, but I wasn’t mad about it, he was great when he took control.


	29. Something Is Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but i wanted to end it on a cliff-hanger (beacuse i'm mean). 
> 
> hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> and by the way, i love reading your comments, but i hate the limited options i have on my laptop to reply to them. so, if you want to discuss my story with me, feel free to dm me on instagram (@ killjoy_assbutt) (my profilepic is Castiel sticking out hs tongue)

But soon enough we had to part. The bleating of the goats and the clucking of the chickens, still trapped in their cages, made us return to reality. Reluctantly, Geralt stood up, offering me a hand to help me on my feet. I gladly accepted, and pressed one last kiss to his lips before we collected our weapons and made our way back to the – still not fully unloaded – cart.

Geralt took my sword from me, and let me deal with the animals. I took the cages with the chicken first, setting each into the coop within the pen. We had bought five, four hens and one rooster. Next were the goats. They, too, would stay in the pen. The two of them bleated happily, when I untied and released them into their new home, munching on the tall grass almost immediately. Last was the donkey. It’d stay with the horses, the paddock and stables were big enough. I just hope they’ll get along; both Roach and Shadow can be very stubborn from time to time – just like their riders…

“Tomorrow, we’ll name you, hmm?” I cooed, petting the donkey’s nose. It blew happily, then pulled its head back and trotted towards Roach and Shadow, the three of them sniffing at each other. I smiled watching them. Looked like they’d be just fine living together.

I jumped a little as I felt Geralt’s hands sneak around my waist, pulling me into his chest. I hadn’t heard his footsteps in the soft grass, and I was so used to his presence that I couldn’t determine the distance between us anymore when I wasn’t paying attention to it; after a decade of being together, he could easily sneak up on me when I wasn’t expecting him to. But I quickly relaxed in his arms and leaned back, resting my head against his shoulder as we watched the horses and donkey get to know each other.

“I expected Roach to bite, to be honest,” my husband’s chuckle rumbled through my body.

I laughed through the nose. “She’s the alpha after all.” I shrugged.

We stood there for a while, enjoying the warmth of the slowly setting sun and each other. A cold wind blew over the field and I shivered. 

“We should go inside. I’ll make dinner,” I sighed. It was getting late.

A hum in agreement came from Geralt and we walked the short distance to our house, one of his arms still around my waist as I leaned into him. 

I walked into the kitchen and huffed a little. The table was packed with the baskets of food we had bought, most of it I had to plant tomorrow. I turned around to face Geralt, who had just stepped up behind me, now standing in the doorway.

“Change of plan,” I stated simply, causing confusion to spread on his face. “I’m not cooking today,” I quickly explained, my hand gesturing to the loaded table, “I don’t have the space, and this stuff has to stay here overnight, I won’t plant it today.”

“So? You’ll do…?”

I smirked and grabbed two plates, then motioned for him to follow me upstairs. For what did we put that table in our bedroom, if not for this? I conjured bread, cheese, sausages and some fruit, and turned to my husband, smiling. 

“This. This is what I’ll do.”

With a hum from Geralt, we sat down and ate in comfortable silence. My mind was occupied by one thought: even though this was perfect and so much more than I had ever expected my life to be, I felt like something was missing. Something we’d create, something giving us a reason to smile even on the darkest day (besides of each other). This thought wouldn’t leave; not when we finished dinner, not when I used my magic to clean the plates, not even when Geralt lead me to the washroom, muttering something about us needing a bath.

The thought just wouldn’t leave, and not even my husband undressing – a sight that usually sent my mind into the gutter and made my eyes and heart fill with adoration – could shoo it away. I followed his lead and sat in the tub filled with steaming water, sighing as it relaxed my sore muscles. Geralt pulled me close into his chest, holding me by the waist. He must have noticed my absent state, but left me to ponder.

We washed ourselves rather quickly and then lay soaking in the hot water until it ran cold and our skin grew wrinkled. Just then, Geralt managed to rip me from my thoughts.

“Come on, Nienna. We should go to bed. You’re almost falling asleep on me, my love,” he chuckled the last sentence.

I hummed and got off him, so he could get out of the tub. We dried ourselves up and got dressed for the night.

Once we were lying in bed, I collected all my courage to tell Geralt my revelation, but he beat me to speaking up first, catching me a little off guard.

“You are awfully quiet this evening, my love. Is everything alright?” he asked, rolling onto his side to look directly at me, the moon illuminating the room.

I sighed. Then nodded. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I mumbled. “It’s just… everything is perfect and all, but…” I sighed again. I had no idea how he’d react when I told him exactly what I had thought about for hours. “I’ve been thinking,” I finally brought out.

“I’ve noticed,” Geralt chucked, but upon noticing my distressed state, he became more serious. “What is it, my love? Tell me.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, and I nuzzled into his touch, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I-I just feel- I just feel like something is missing. That there could be something more,” confessed weakly. I opened my eyes, tears blurring my vision as I gazed at my concerned husband. He was waiting for me to continue, reassuringly stroking his thumb along my cheekbone. “I wish we had a child,” I breathed out.


	30. You'd be a great father

Anxiously, I held my breath as I waited for Geralt to react. But he only stared at me, as if he was waiting for me to burst out laughing and yell ‘just kidding’, but I was dead serious.

After a moment, he sighed, letting his hand drop from my cheek to my waist.

“Nienna,” he said, knitting his brows together, a woeful expression on his face, “see reason. We…no – I can’t. And before you start: yes, your father was a witcher, but that doesn’t mean all witchers are able to have children. You are the only child of a witcher on the whole Continent. Don’t you think that in all these years we’ve been together, all these times we’ve slept together, if I could have children, that you wouldn’t have been pregnant at least once? That if I could, we’d already have a child?”

“How can we know I hadn’t been pregnant at least once, when I took hits to the stomach almost constantly?” I muttered. “My bleeding was irregular, it always has been, so if it was delayed, I wouldn’t have noticed. I-I know we can do this, we only have to want it.” 

I was desperate. How could he not see that there had to be a possibility for us to have a child, since, hell, my father was a witcher!

“Love, we would have noticed.” Geralt was trying his best to stay calm, I could feel it. “But the possibility for us to have a child aside, do you really think our life is suited for one? Witchers are sterile for a reason.”

“But if it’s always the same procedure, how am I even here? How could my mother have me?”

“I don’t know. But I went through it all more than once. I was the only one to survive. Maybe there is a possibility for witchers who underwent the treatment once, but I didn’t. And I don’t want to hurt you, my love. Fuck! I would die before intentionally hurting you, I want you to know that, but I cannot have children. I’m sorry”

He had sat up by now, leaning against the headboard and staring down at me, and his voice had become louder, but he was still sincere.

I sat up as well, kneeling to be on eyelevel with him and cupped his cheek.

“It isn’t your fault, minne. And we can still try,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to be any louder. I had a lump in my throat and silent tears were spilling from my eyes. “I-I didn’t want us to rush into anything… I just wanted to let you know.”

A sad smile appeared on Geralt’s face and he reached out to pull me onto his lap sideways. I let my head fall against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I know, my love,” he sighed. “But let’s face it: our life is not fit for a child. It is way too dangerous and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to our child only because we were foolish enough to have one in the first place.”

He was probably right. But we had a home now, we weren’t living on the road anymore.

“I am a healer,” I mumbled out, not even understanding why I said it myself.

“What?”  
“I told them I was a healer. They need me here. I can’t leave, not for long,” I muttered, staring into distance, focus long gone.

My husband hummed. “Yeah, I’d like it a lot better if I knew you were somewhere safe.” 

“I’m safe wherever you are, Geralt, and so would be our child.” I cupped his cheek and turned his head to face me. “I know that if we had a child, you’d do absolutely everything to protect them.”

He shook his head slightly. “I wouldn’t be a good father,” he sighed sadly.

“you’re right. You wouldn’t.” I giggled a little at Geralt’s offended face. “You’d be an amazing father. And do you know how I know?”

“Hm?”

“Because you’re the best husband.” I pulled down, our lips touching softly in a kiss full of love.

Geralt pulled back way too soon. “Hmm, you’re just the best wife. What did I do to deserve you,” he hummed.

“You… chose not to kill me,” I shrugged, giggling. “But seriously, we can try. If it doesn’t work, fine. If it does work, even better. I love you, no matter what. And I know that if it works, if we’re able to have a child, you’ll be the best father there is.”

“You really think that?” It broke my heart to see him so unconvinced. Hell, he was the best fucking man there is, how could he doubt himself? Why couldn’t he see what I see?

“I don’t only think that, I know it.”

He captured my lips in an all-consuming kiss.

“Then I don’t see anything wrong with trying,” he muttered against my lips once he pulled back, “if it means I get to worship my amazing wife even more often than usual.”

“I love you so much, you don’t even know,” I mumbled, crashing my lips on his.

“No, I know, because I love you more,” Geralt muttered into the kiss. He scooted down in bed, making us lay down again, but he didn’t let me go. He held me tightly where I was lying on his chest, and I snuggled into him.

I was sure we’d find a way. We’d start a family. I just knew it.

With a smile on my face, I fell asleep on top of my husband, whom I loved more than anything.

The next weeks were pretty un-specular. We settled in pretty quickly to domestic life. Geralt helped me wherever he could. He absolutely loved taking care for the animals. I loved watching him when I did the laundry. There was not a shadow of a doubt on my mind that there was even a chance he’d be a bad father.


	31. The Sisters Of Melitele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> book-fans, this one is for you!

The next years went on very peaceful as well. The people in the village were welcoming to me as their new healer, and trusted me.

We were trying hard to get me pregnant, but without any pressure. We didn’t use any spells or anything, we wanted it to happen naturally. If it wouldn’t work, fine. Even though Geralt didn’t believe in it, I wanted destiny to make our child happen.

Occasionally, Geralt left to find jobs. Sometimes I’d come with him, sometimes I’d stay home, always depending on the situation in the village; if there were many sick, I couldn’t go. Geralt agreed to that, he’d rather I’d stay home every time he left, but he didn’t want to be parted from me for too long, so he let me come.

It had been four years since we had come here. Geralt was currently on a hunt in the north. He’d been gone for about two months. I hoped he was alright, deep down in my heart I felt he was still alive, and that calmed me immensely.

Right now, I was sitting in my potion kitchen, writing a letter to Triss. Shortly after we had settled down, I had started writing her; told her where she’d find us if she needed to and that I had picked up my old profession again. She had offered to help me whenever I needed her to and I gladly agreed. It felt good to have a powerful sorceress like her helping me from time to time. I considered her a friend. How could I not? She had saved my husband’s life when he was almost killed by the striga – I only did little to that day. She had saved my life from that spell that had surely led to my death eventually.

But back to the letter. There was a child in the village with a fever that just wouldn’t go away. I had already tried everything, but to no avail. The little boy was still blazing hot to the touch, and I was beginning to feel desperate; the boy would only have a few days left if I didn’t find a cure soon.

I sent Triss the letter, letting a dove fly.

Two days later came her reply. She too couldn’t think of a cure, but she was sure the Sisters of Melitele could help.

Dear gods, it would take weeks to travel there! I would have to use a portal. 

I left a note for Geralt, telling him where I was, should he return before I did and left for the village.

I told the boy’s mother what the sorceress had written me, and luckily the woman agreed to let me take them to the temple.

Outside their home, I concentrated and let a portal appear.

“Quick,” I told the mother, ”I can’t hold it for long. You have to trust me.”

Clutching on to her unconscious son, the woman stepped through the portal and I rushed through behind her.

We found ourselves in a rich garden, a grand building not far in the distance.

“Follow me,” I said to the woman as I quickly walked up the path leading to the temple.

“Help, we need a healer!” I called over and over again, until a young woman grabbed my arm gently. I jumped slightly, having felt her presence, but not expected her to touch me.  
the young woman smiled at me and led the three of us into the temple.

She opened a door to reveal an old woman sitting behind a large desk. At the sound of the door opening, the woman looked up from the parchment she had been writing on.

“What is it, Iola?” she asked.

The girl stepped aside to reveal the mother with her son and me. The woman behind the desk motioned for us to come closer. With one glance at the mother I knew she wouldn’t talk, too shocked at using a portal.

“Please, we need a healer. This little boy… his fever just won’t go away. I have tried everything, but…” I waved my hand at him a little, bringing the priestess’ attention to the boy’s state. “A friend of mine, Triss Merigold, told me you could help him.”

The priestess nodded. “Iola, take this woman to the healing quarters, I’ll be there shortly,” she directed the young woman, who nodded and led the mother away.  
“You are a healer?” she asked me.

“Yes ma’am,” I nodded. A strand of hair, that I had loosely tucked behind my ear, covering it, fell due to the movement, and revealed the pointy arch.

“You’re an elf?” There was no judgement in the priestess’ voice. She stood up and walked towards the door, motioning for me to follow her.

“Half-elf,” I corrected. “And half witcher.”

She turned to me, mid step. “Half witcher? Isn’t that impossible?”

I scoffed, “Well, I’m the living proof it’s not.”

“What is your name, girl?”

“Nienna, ma’am.”

“Nienna, you don’t happen to know a witcher named Geralt, do you,” she asked.

“Know?” I chuckled, “I married him. Why are you asking?”

“Because he was here a year ago, pretty beaten up from a job, could barely walk. And he wouldn’t shut up about having to return to his Nienna,” she explained.

“He was here? He didn’t tell me! He told me the job went fine!” 

“He doesn’t want you to worry, dear. He told me about your wish to be a mother, and how stressful it is for you sometimes. Even though you’re hiding it pretty well, he knows you, dear. I hope I could help you more than wish you the blessing of Great Melitele,” she smiled at me, just as we reached the door to the healing quarters.

“Thank you…” I whispered, realizing I had never learned her name. I looked at her questioningly.

“It’s Nenneke. I doubt Geralt mentioned me, even though I’ve known him since he was a little boy,” she said, pushing the doors open. 

“You’ve known him before the transformation?” I almost gasped out. “What was he like?”

“He was,” Nenneke started, chucking. “He was a clever little boy; curious and always on the search for an adventure. Light brown curls and ocean blue eyes. He just wouldn’t shut up once he stared talking.”

I smiled, watching the priestess inspect the little boy.

“I’m glad he’s becoming more like he was back then through you,” Nenneke said after a few moments, then turned to the boy’s mother, holding a vial in her hand.

“Here. Three drops three times a day. In a cup of water, make sure he drinks it all. He should be fine in a week. He doesn’t need to stay here, you’re free to go.” 

The mother nodded and picked up her son, thanking the priestess over and over again.

“Thank you, Nenneke,” I smiled at her, “for everything.”

“It’s nothing, dear,” she smiled back, “Thank you for everything you do for Geralt. Melitele bless you for your wish to come true.” 

I nodded at her, then held my hand out, creating a portal. The mother rushed through.

“Goodbye, High Priestess,” I said, and followed the woman.

Within seconds, we arrived at the village.

“Thank you, Nienna, for saving my son,” the mother almost wept. 

I put my hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t do anything, but your boy will be fine. Just remember what the priestess told you.”

“Mh-mhh, I will,” the mother nodded and brought her son inside.

I went to where I had tied Shadow. She whinnied happily when she saw me. I quickly untied and mounted her, galloping off to our home.


	32. I've Missed You, My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grab some ice water and lock your doors, this is a steamy one.  
> you've been warned!!  
> ;)  
> like really: from 'aww fluff' to 'hot steam' real quick.
> 
> enjoy <3

It took about another month for Geralt to return. He came back beaten and bloody, but it wasn’t too serious.

I was feeding the chickens when I heard Roach’s hooves thundering from about a mile away. I dropped the bowl of grain and ran towards the sound, stumbling over the hem of my dress a few times, but never falling. And when I saw him, I picked up my pace once again. Geralt jumped from the back of his trusty steed just as I reached them. He wrapped me in his strong arms and didn’t let me go for some time.

“I missed you so much, me minne,” I wept tears of joy into his armour-clad chest.

“I missed you more,” he muttered, pulling me back a little and capturing my lips in a kiss that showed exactly how much. It was full of longing and love and pent up desire from not seeing each other for three months. I didn’t want to let him go, tangling my hands in his silvery locks, pulling him closer to me. He did the same with his hands on my waist, his large hands encircling me almost completely. We stood there for a while, pressed impossibly close, lost in each other.

An annoyed whinny from Roach brought us back to reality and we parted. 

“Killjoy,” Geralt muttered, sending his mare a glare, but she only blew through her nose.

I laughed, softly petting her muzzle. “I missed you too, sweetie. Did you take good care of him?” 

She blew through her nose again.

“Good girl,” I praised her. “You know, there is someone who missed you at home.”

Geralt grabbed my waist and lifted me into the saddle, climbing in behind me and then pulled me closer onto his lap. 

“There is someone who missed you, too, my love,” he growled against the side of my neck, pressing a kiss to my pulse point, sending shivers down my spine, as we galloped over the open field toward our home.

And yeah, soon enough I could feel exactly who had missed me, Roach’s fast pace made it impossible for me not to grind in the saddle – or more my husband’s crotch. As a result, things got rather… hard.

Finally, we arrived at our house. Geralt practically jumped off Roach and pulled me down. While he was unfastening the saddle with impatient fingers, I freed the mare from her bridle. We let her trot into the paddock, closed the gate behind her and rushed into the house, pieces of Geralt’s armour littering the way upstairs.

We couldn’t even wait to even enter our bedroom completely, let alone reach the bed. Once we reached the top of the stairs, Geralt pushed me against the wall, attacking my neck with fervent kisses and nibbles, definitely leaving marks, while impatient fingers untied the string of my dress’ laced up front. He had me gasping and shaking within seconds, desperately gripping onto his hair as a security he wouldn’t leave again. 

When he finally finished unlacing my dress, he pushed it over my shoulders, letting the fabric pool around my ankles. He stepped back, admiring my almost naked form in front of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, letting his calloused fingers run down my sides ever so softly, causing goose bumps to appear in his wake. I shivered, letting out a breathy moan. Gods, how I had missed his touch!

I reached out for him, catching hold of the nape of his neck and pulled him close to me, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips. He responded instantly, letting his tongue slide over my bottom lip, and I gladly granted him access, letting him explore my mouth with his tongue, fighting him for dominance with my own. I lost, my head too intoxicated from his everything.

I let my hands wander a little down his back, gripping onto the back of his tunic and tugging it upward. Geralt stepped back again, pulling his shirt off his body before pressing against me once again, grabbing me by the back of my thighs, urging me to jump up. I did, wrapping my legs tightly around his hips. My back pressed flush against the wall and my front against my husband’s chest as we devoured one another, letting go of all pent up desire in the best way possible. 

The – still clothed – hot spots of our desire ground against each other deliciously, the fabric providing some friction, but it wasn’t enough. Geralt shifted, lifting me off the wall. I clung on tighter to him, but I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. He walked us to our bed blindly, letting me drop down on the soft mattress with a bounce.

He remained standing in front of the bed for some time, staring down at me, as if mesmerized by my heaving form. Finally, he pushed down his trousers, letting his rock hard length spring free, and climbed into bed, settling between my open legs.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he mumbled against my flushed skin as he kissed his way down to the waistband of my panties, pulling the thin fabric off my body using his teeth. I shuddered.

This wouldn’t be like the soft and sensual goodbye-sex we had the night before he left, no. This would be primal. I could already tell that at some point I’d end up on my hands and knees. It was always like that, but this time he’d been gone for longer than usual.

Geralt discarded the soaked fabric of my panties next to the bed and crawled up my body, growling darkly at my quivering.

“We haven’t even started, my love,” he growled out words now, just as dark. His pupils were blown with passion and lust, their intensity making it hard for me to look at them for too long.

I loved it. The longer he’d been gone, the more dominant, the more animalistic he became upon his arrival. I hated that he had to leave, but the longer he’d been gone, the better his return was – in terms of joy when we saw each other as well as the making up in bed. I thanked every god I knew for giving me this man to love.

“You’re so wet, my love. I can smell how much you need me,” my husband’s dark voice came from right next to my ear as he nipped on my pulse point, making me gasp sharply.  
“Please,” I whined pathetically, “Please! I missed you so much! Just… just make me yours.”

My core was aching for him and I was shaking in anticipation, panting from just his dark stare.

“Hmm. So good. So, so good. Begging for me like that, my love,” he growled again, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head with one of his hands, gripping tightly, but not too much to hurt me.

If you didn’t know Geralt, and wondered what he’d be like in bed, just from how he looked, this was what came to your mind.

With his free hand, he led my legs to wrap around his waist, then used it to guide his hot, pulsing and incredibly hard length into my core. I cried out at the stretch, only to be silenced by and almost violent kiss. He let me adjust to his size before pulling back and slamming into me. He was grunting and groaning, his tight grip on my wrists and hip surely leaving bruises as he thrusted into me roughly at an animalistic fast pace. My moans rose in pitch, pathetic whimpers leaving my lungs. Within minutes, he had me careening towards the edge. I clamped down on him. I was close. So fucking close.

“Come for me, love,” my husband’s low growl commanded and who was I to disobey?

“Gera- ah!” I screamed, the tight knot in my belly exploding, my vision going white. I threw my head back, crying out my pleasure, chanting Geralt’s name like a prayer. I tugged desperately at his grip on my wrists, and finally he let go. My hands flew to his hair, pulling him down to kiss him fervently as he fucked me lazily through my orgasm.

When I stopped quivering around him, he pulled out. I whined at the loss of him, only to let out a surprised squeal when he flipped me over onto my stomach, pulling my hips up with one hand, his other pushing my upper body face down into the pillows in between my shoulder blades. 

I whimpered, completely at his mercy, as he entered me from behind, the head of his length stroking against my sweet spot deliciously.

“You’re perfect,” Geralt growled, kissing up my spine to the spot where my neck met my shoulder. I winced slightly when he sank his teeth in, gently nipping on my sensitive skin.  
“So fucking perfect.”

Mewling, I rolled my hips back, urging – no pleading – him to move.

“Hmm. And so impatient,” he growled against my neck. 

His chest was resting against my back, our skin slick with sweat; his head remained resting against the side of my neck, sharp teeth nipping and nibbling at my shoulder. And then he finally started thrusting into me again; deep, powerful strokes stimulating every nerve. He had me screaming into the pillow within seconds: curses and desperate cries of his name.

I was so full of him, every sense focusing on him. It wasn’t long before I felt him swell inside me, growing even harder and twitching. I clamped my walls around him involuntarily, coaxing a carnal groan from the man above me. His hand left my hip. Before I could wonder where it went, I felt it stroke circles on my clit, matching the fast thrusts of my husband.

For the second time today, the knot in my belly exploded, making me see white and shout out Geralt’s name like it was the only word I knew. I clamped down on him, my walls fluttering around his length as he continued thrusting into me, twitching, close to his own release. It took three deep thrusts for him to follow me over the edge, a deep groan thundering through my ears. He rode out our high, rocking into me lazily as my walls milked him to the last drop. We were both panting, sweaty messes, the evidence of our pleasure running down the back of my thighs, but we couldn’t care less.

Geralt pulled out of me, collapsing on the bed, breathing heavily. Weakly, I moved to rest my head on his chest, like I always did, his arm around my waist pulling me close. With closed eyes, I listened to his heartbeat. It was almost human now, meaning that his heart was racing insanely fast. But soon enough he calmed down.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked after a while, guilt and concern heavy in his voice.

“No, you didn’t,” I whispered, tracing the scars on his chest. “You were amazing. I missed you so much, minne. I love you.”

“I missed you more, my love.”


	33. Every Time You Leave

We must have dozed off. When I woke up, noon had just passed. Geralt was still asleep, snoring quietly. Good, he needed his rest. Only the gods know how much sleep he’d gotten in the past three months.

Careful not to wake him, I got up and tiptoed my way over to the washroom, preparing a bath we’d both need. When I returned to the bedroom, Geralt was just waking up, his hands reaching out, searching for my warmth on the mattress, but he wouldn’t find me. I giggled a little.

“I’m here, me minne,” I laughed and he finally opened his eyes, captivating me with his beautiful golden gaze. I just couldn’t but walk over to him and crawl into his open arms as he sat up against the headboard. He pulled me close and pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

I sighed in content. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you wake me?” Geralt asked after a moment of silence.

“You need your rest, minne,” I stated simply, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

After a while, I spoke up again, attempting to move off my husband’s lap, but he held me close.

“Come on,” I laughed, struggling against his grip, “I made you a bath. Get up before it gets cold, I won’t heat it again.”

My threat made Geralt get up, yes, but he didn’t let go of me. In fact, he did quite the opposite: he held me even closer, carrying me over to the tub and setting me in first before climbing in himself. I turned around, facing him, and grabbed the rag and the block of soap I had set on the stool next to the tub. I let the soaped up rag run across Geralt’s chest. With a sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, letting me wash him.

I noticed a few new scars, bright pink in contrast to his pale skin. I traced it lightly with my finger.

“What was it?” I asked quietly.

“A kikimora. Got a thousand for it.”

But it wasn’t only one new scar. I traced one along his collarbone. It seemed to be the latest; it was the most red. “And this?”

“Bruxa. Pretty thing, reminded me of you.”

I splashed him. He chuckled, “That is, until she turned. Maybe it was just me projecting. So long without you… every day was like torture.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. If it weren’t for the people in the village, I would have gone crazy.”

“You had a lot of work?”

I hummed. “Yeah, well… not that much, but this little boy… he had a fever and it just wouldn’t go away. I tried everything, for weeks, but he just wouldn’t get better. I even had to ask Triss for help, but she didn’t know what to do either. But… you know who she sent me to?”

“No. Someone I know?” Geralt guessed.

“The High Priestess of Melitele. She told me some interesting things about you, minne. For example, that you were a very talkative little boy. Or,” I smiled at him, then paused, my voice hardening, “that you were there last year, half dead! You told me the job went fine! Geralt, I don’t want you to lie to me, even if you think it’s for the better, that you’re only protecting me. I’m your wife. I don’t want any secrets between us, not even little ones.”

He looked at me, a guilty expression on his face. He sighed.

“I know. I should have told you. But you have to remember, there was a lot going on, I didn’t want you to worry even more. This little girl had just died, your treatment not working. You thought we had finally managed to get you pregnant, but you ended up bleeding anyway. I just didn’t want you to break from the heavy load, my love,” he mumbled.  
Now it was my turn to sigh. “I know.”

I let myself fall against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

“I just hate it when you’re gone for so long and I have no idea if you’re alright.”

“I know, my love. But the people here need you.”

“And the people out there need you.”

Geralt scoffed.

“They do,” I insisted. “You save lives, minne.”

“Hmm.” 

I pulled one of his hands off my arm, playing with his fingers as we soaked in the warm water. I giggled as I turned his hand, his palm now facing upward. His skin was wrinkled, so was mine.

“I think we should get out. I baked yesterday, with apples from our garden,” I beamed.

***

Geralt was able to stay for a few weeks, but he had to leave way too soon. There were rumours about a pack of werewolves in the east, and that they were moving towards us. With a heavy heart, I let him go. I had to. Neither of us would risk the safety of the village that we called our home, the people that – for once – accepted us, and had welcomed us so warmly. 

I wanted to come with him, but there were three sick and one pregnant in the village. I couldn’t leave. The people needed me to stay just as much as they needed Geralt to leave.  
It were moments like these that make me doubt that settling down had been a good idea. But I quickly pushed that thought aside. This place was home. It was a place where we’d be safe. A place we’d always return to. A place where we’d start a family – there was no doubt in my mind that we could manage that.

Nenneke had granted me Melitele’s blessing, and even if Geralt didn’t believe in the gods, I did, and I knew that with Melitele’s blessing, we would only have to wait for destiny to decide when the best time would be for us to have a child.

So, I stayed behind, anxiously waiting for my husband to return. But deep down I knew I didn’t have to worry about him. He was strong, experienced and clever, and werewolves were some of the simpler creatures to cure or kill, depending on their origin – and my husband’s mood. He’d be fine. I told that to myself over and over, but the nights, like every night that he didn’t lay in bed next to me, were restless. 

Most nights, I wouldn’t even go to bed, knowing it was pointless – I wouldn’t fall asleep. Instead, I spent the nights in my healing chamber, brewing all kinds of potions and medications for my patients and Geralt, always refilling the stock of his Witcher-potions.


	34. Please Stay, My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure about this one, but it was all i could come up with...
> 
> I know i said it before, but, even though i love your lovely comments, i hate the limited options to answer them on my laptop, so (only if you want to, of course) feel free to dm me on instagram. my user name is the same as on here (killjoy_assbutt) as well as my profile pic.  
> (This is not me fishing for followers, i genuinly like talking with you about my story, or the witcher in general)

“I’ll be back in a few weeks, my love,” he has promised from on top of Roach’s back, then leaned down to give me one last kiss, before riding off to his next job.

Two weeks had passed since then. I concentrated on running the household: taking care of the animals, doing laundry, cleaning the house, tending to the garden. I had even picked up needle and thread, sewing new clothes for Geralt and me.

I was happy about every distraction, and luckily – well, not for them – the sick family in the village needed my constant attention, at least in the first week of my husband’s absence.

The pregnant woman, Ana, visited three times a week. Her back pain was getting worse, the light pain medication I brewed for her not working anymore. But anything stronger could have a negative effect on her child; neither of us wanted to risk that. We talked a lot about her pregnancy, how she was feeling, and what I had to expect once I was with child. She was a great help getting my mind off Geralt’s absence. She needed a lot of attention, now that her child was due in about a month.

Her husband wasn’t there either, he was a merchant and currently on a trip. He had left shortly after Ana found out she was pregnant. I hoped for her he’d return before the birth. She’d need all his help.

But the best distraction came along on the day exactly two weeks after Geralt left. His visit was unexpected and completely coincidental.

I was milking the goats, their babies – yes, at least our goat family had grown – jumping around happily, when I heard the soft strumming of a lute paired with a voice I had last heard about seven years ago. It was coming from the direction of the village, directly toward our home. I smiled. I had missed the bard.

I didn’t look up from my chore, but listened to him coming closer and closer. I knew about his – uhm – habit for women, so I knew that he’d come here once he saw me. I wanted to surprise him.

About ten minutes later, I felt his presence behind my back, a few feet in front of the front yard’s fence.

“Excuse me, ma’a-“ he stopped, interrupted by Shadow whinnying happily at the sight of a familiar face. “Wait, I know you!” he said, speaking to the horse. I stood up and turned. My movement made his eyes shift from Shadow to me.

“Jaskier,” I smiled at him. “It’s so nice to see you again,” I greeted the gaping bard.

“Nienna! Si- since when…?” he finally brought out.

I laughed. “For about four years now. Come on in,” I said, stepping out of the pen, picking up the bucket filled with fresh goat milk, and motioned for him to follow me.

“I would never have imagined the two of you settling down,” Jaskier confessed, glancing over his shoulder one last time, eyeing the paddock with only one horse. “Hmm, no Roach; Geralt isn’t there?”

I sighed, turning to face him. “No. He’s on a job. Werewolves. He’s been gone for two weeks exactly today. I’m starting to go crazy without him,” I explained. Then smiled. “Please tell me you’re going to stay,” I begged my friend.

“Who am I to deny the wish of a beautiful lady,” he chuckled, then grew pale. “Don’t tell Geralt I said that,” he rushed out.

“I won’t,” I whispered. “Do you want to drink anything? Tea? Or I could conjure some ale,” I offered.

“Tea would be great, thanks.”

I smiled and nodded. “Coming right up,” I said, walking to the kitchen and stopping in the door frame. “I’m sorry. This is the first time we have a guest who isn’t here because they’re sick. Please, sit,” I rambled, slightly embarrassed, motioning towards the table.

The bard only chuckled, but sat down. “As if you’re not used to me being around.”

“Well,” I said from the kitchen, “it’s been a while. What have you been up to all these years?”

I returned to the main room with two steaming mugs and sat them down on the table, taking a seat across from Jaskier.

“Well,” he started proudly, “I’ve been travelling a lot. The whole north knows about Geralt now.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “I’ve noticed. He comes home with more coin than he got before we met you. Thank you, Jaskier, truly.” I took a sip of my tea, letting the warm liquid and herbal scent soothe my worried mind.

“I didn’t do it only for you two,” he chuckled.

“Huh?”

“Well, I made your Witcher famous, but, while doing so, also myself,” Jaskier beamed. “I was invited to court, to perform for kings!”

Honestly, I was impressed. I mean, I could see he was talented when I heard him in Posada, but this… was something.

“And nobody told you to ‘abort yourself’?” I laughed, referring to our first meeting.

“No,” he smiled back, then let his eyes wander around the room. “How come you…” he asked, gesturing at the room wildly.

I smiled sadly and began, “Geralt almost died curing the princess of Temeria from her curse –a striga. I just… I wanted us to have a place where we could escape from all this, from his life, at least for a while. And to my surprise, Geralt agreed. You should see him; he thrives here.” I smiled at the thought of Geralt taking care of the horses, softly whispering to them. “The people here are nice and they accepted me as their healer. The only problem now is that I can’t leave, while Geralt has to… I miss him,” I sighed, then looked up to face the bard. “We want to start a family, you know. Or, at least we’re trying.”

“Woah, that’s some great news. But I thought witchers can’t have-“

“Why does everybody keep saying this? I’m the living proof it’s not impossible,” I interrupted him, slightly annoyed at how often I had heard these words.

“Uh, yeah, sorry…” Jaskier mumbled.

I sighed heavily. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m going insane without him. Before he left, he was here for three weeks after being gone for three months! I…” Another sigh, “I’m so glad you’re here, my friend. Hey, uh, did you stay out of trouble, like I asked you to?”

A sheepish smile grew on the bard’s face. “Define trouble…”

“Trouble that’ll get you killed one day?” I suggested, dragging out the last three words.

“Well, uhm, what can I say… I tried, but these women at court…”

Oh, good gods! “Married women?”

Jaskier only shrugged. 

“Good gods.” I let my head fall into my hands.

We finished our tea and talked about everything that happened since we’ve last seen each other. When the sun started to set, I showed him to the guest room, letting him make himself at home while I prepared dinner. 

In the following week, Jaskier was the best distraction I could have asked for. He was constantly around, rambling on about everything that came to his mind, or strumming his lute, singing for me while I worked. He had also offered to help me around the house, but I kindly refused. He was a guest after all, and alone his presence was helping me enough.

But one thing was bothering me: last time I had seen Jaskier, he was barely an adult; and now, seven years later, he looked like not a single day had passed! But I let the thought drop, surely there had to be humans blessed with eternal youth.


	35. Please Don't Tell Me It's The Bard!

It had been eight days since Jaskier came here. We were currently sitting in the kitchen. Jaskier was going on about some courtly gossip he’d picked up in Aedirn, while I was peeling potatoes, preparing dinner. I smiled, hummed or gasped from time to time, giving the bard a sign I was still listening, even though I wasn’t. But he would be rambling whether I wasn’t listening or not. His constant babbling became a background noise – one I very much appreciated – that kept me from worrying about my husband. I was so thankful for Jaskier to be here, and he was glad he didn’t have to pay for a room to stay.

“The princess of Cintra will be turning fifteen soon. That means…”

I tuned out his voice; a faint sound in the distance caught my attention. It was coming closer, and quickly so. My ears twitched and my head shot up as I realized what exactly caused that sound.

Without a word of explanation to the bard, I ran out of the kitchen and the house all together, picking up my skirt so I wouldn’t stumble.

The thunder of Roach’s hooves galloping along the distant road sounded over the open field long before I could see them. I only stopped when I reached the road, out of breath and shaking with excitement. I waited impatiently for Roach to come out from between the trees, around the turn of the road. After a few long minutes, they finally did, and I stared running again. 

Geralt slowed his mare and halted her all together, jumping off her back just as I reached them, letting me fall into his opened arms. I held onto him tightly, never wanting to let him go. Way too soon, Geralt pushed me back, holding me an arm’s length from him, before cupping my cheeks with gloved hands, pulling me in for a deep kiss. We savoured each other. I let my tongue run over his bottom lip and he responded, opening his mouth a little. But before I could snake my tongue in, though, he caught my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. I gasped and that was when he pushed his tongue into my mouth, letting me own win the battle for dominance as I grabbed his face, pulling him closer to me, while he let his hands drop to my waist, pulling flush against his body.

After what felt like hours, we parted, resting our foreheads together.

“I missed you so much, minne,” I mumbled, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“I missed you too, my love,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “Let’s head home,” he smiled, one hand wandering to my bum suggestively.

“Mh-mhh,” I hummed as he lifted me on Roach’s back. “But before you start anything, we have a guest.”

Geralt stopped his actions, as he was just about to climb into the saddle behind me, stared at me for a moment and then shrugged, swinging his leg over the mare’s back.

“Then we’ll tell them to leave,” my husband muttered against the side of my neck before gently nibbling on the soft skin.

“I don’t think he’ll leave,” I giggled, his stubble and long hair tickling the exposed skin of my neck and shoulder, “And certainly not when he sees you.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the bard,” he sighed.

“Then I won’t say anything. But just know that he helped me a lot while you were gone, keeping me from worrying about you, me minne.” I let my head fall back Geralt’s shoulder and he slowed Roach, so we’d have a moment to ourselves before Jaskier saw the witcher. Certainly, he’d start asking all kinds of questions as soon as we stepped through our front door.

We managed to drag out the usually so short way from the road to our house, making it take a good fifteen minutes instead if five. We spent them in comfortable silence, just basking in the presence of one another, exchanging a soft kiss from time to time – the position on Roach’s back made it rather uncomfortable to give in to what we really wanted, a full on make out session. Besides, we couldn’t; things would get hard and messy, and we still had a guest at home.

So, after a good fifteen minutes, we arrived at our house. I helped Geralt free Roach of her saddle and bridle, along with my husband’s bags. The last thing we did was ridding the witcher from his armour, setting it on a bench outside – it’d need to be cleaned and greased.

Surprisingly, Jaskier waited inside patiently, allowing us to have a few moments alone.

Oh, but once we entered the kitchen…

“Be nice,” I warned my husband in a harsh whisper.

Geralt grumbled a ‘why?’ in response, and I shot him a glare before smiling again and leading him around the kitchen table, gently pushing him to sit diagonally from Jaskier, while I took my seat across from the bard, holding out my hands, conjuring a pint of ale for each of the men, before resuming my task of preparing dinner.  
“So, uh, werewolves, huh?” Jaskier started awkwardly.

“Hm,” Geralt grunted, muffled by the pint of ale.

“How many?” I asked in a soft voice, gently tracing a scratch on his cheekbone. Geralt was always quiet around the bard, but something else was upsetting him.

“Four. Not a big pack, but strong. Born ones,” he grumbled.

So there it was. He had to kill them when he’d rather cured them, but he couldn’t. They really were monsters; were born, not turned.

I wiped my hands on my apron, then leaned my head against Geralt’s shoulder, sliding one hand into his and resting the other in the crook of his arm.

“Minne, you did what you had to. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I whispered reassuringly.

“You don’t understand, Nienna. They were a pack, a family; two adults and two young ones, and I – I killed them. They were killing villagers and I killed them,” he responded, voice hard.

I turned to Jaskier, who was listening closely, and gave him a pleading glance.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure,” he mumbled as he got up and left the kitchen. “Oh, hello, you cutie,” I could hear him coo from outside, the baby goats bleating happily. 

Once I was sure he didn’t hear us, I turned to my husband.

“What is it, minne? Talk to me,” I said, cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Opening his eyes, he stated talking, “They were young, the children. Maybe five years old, but they grow fast. The pack, they’ve emptied entire villages. I had to kill them, I know that, but…” he let go of another deep sigh.

“But you feel bad for killing the young,” I concluded quietly. “Is it because…” I trailed off, nodding towards my belly.

When I met Geralt’s eyes again, they were full of hurt.

“Oh, minne,” I whispered, “They weren’t human children. They would have killed you and so many more, if you hadn’t killed them first. They were monsters, born monsters. There was nothing else you could have done for them than to give them a quick death.”

I was trying my best to talk the guilt out of him, but my arguments were weak and made me sound cruel. I stopped. Instead, I cupped his jaw with my hands, making him look at me.

“You saved this village, our home, and so many more from a pack of werewolves. They would have come here eventually, and attack those we care about. You did the right thing, Geralt.” 

I kissed him softly, but he didn’t respond. With a sigh, I stood and lit the fire under the stove, setting the pot with potatoes on top. There was no talking him out of his guilt and I had to accept that. It was for the better I let him think about it for himself; I had already said all I could. So I continued with the preparation for dinner. The kitchen was silent, the bubbling of the cooking water and Jaskier’s coos the only sounds.

After a moment, Geralt spoke up, his voice gruff and quiet. “My love?”

I only hummed in response, stirring in the pot.

“Could you fill the tub? I stink.”

He had come up behind me, his hands resting on my hips and his chin on my shoulder. 

“Mh-mhh,” I hummed, “Can you call Jaskier back in? Someone has to watch the stew. I don’t want it to burn.”

“And you think the bard is the right person to watch it?” my husband chuckled.

Oh, thank the gods! The tension was gone!

I turned around, facing Geralt.

“The bard has a name. And he helped me a lot this past week. He’s not stupid, even if you want to believe otherwise,” I scolded him, but with a playful glint in my eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go, get Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, defeated, putting emphasis on the bard’s name. I laughed a little when I heard my husband call for Jaskier from the front door.

“Bard, kitchen! Nienna needs your help.”

The next thing audible were Geralt’s heavy footsteps walking up the stairs and Jaskier’s light shuffling ones, hurrying back inside. When Jaskier stood next to me, I told him what to do: just stirring, not too fast, and nothing else. He nodded and I went upstairs.


	36. He's Our Guest

When I reached the bedroom, Geralt was sitting on the chest at the foot of our bed, already undressed to his underwear, his clothes in a neat pile. But instead of enjoying the sight, I couldn’t help but notice new scars, small ones, but still… I didn’t like it, seeing him leave, not knowing where or how he is, and come back after weeks, covered in new scars every time.

I walked over to him and traced the new scars, still bright pink against his pale skin, on his arm with my finger.

“I could make them disappear,” I whispered.

My husband sighed. “No. They’re part of me. Of what I am. A reminder of what I was created for. And I can’t escape that, as much as I would want to.”

I let my hand wander up his arm, along his shoulder and the side of his neck, gently cupping his jaw, letting my thumb caress his cheekbone, my eyes meeting his.

“You are so much more than just a Witcher, minne. So much more. To these people, to the man downstairs, to me. To me you are my life, ever since you decided not to take it from me. I love you, more than anything in this world, Geralt,” I breathed. 

When he didn’t respond, I started to pull back, to prepare his – on a side note, much needed – bath. But he stopped me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to him, his hands resting on the small of my back. I put my hands on his chest for balance.

“I love you too. Thank you, Nienna,” Geralt muttered, dipping his head down to give me a gentle kiss.

“For what exactly? I do so much for you…” I teased, giggling, his stubble tickling my face.

“For coming into my life. By now, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled against my lips.

I pulled my head back a little, laughing. “If I’m not mistaking, you came into my life. You broke into my cottage, remember?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “For the last time: the door was open,” he groaned.

“It wasn’t,” I protested, “I know I-“

But I was shut up with a pair of plump lips crashing on mine. A hand on the nape of my neck pulled me closer, and I eagerly complied, melting into my husband’s embrace, our lips moulding in perfect sync.

Soon enough the kiss became more heated, teeth pulling on lips, tongues fighting for dominance. But before we could get too carried away, I pulled back, panting for air.

“We’re not alone, remember?” I murmured, resting my forehead against Geralt’s.

“Hm, yeah,” he groaned. “We could still throw him out,” he then suggested with a playful glint in his honey-coloured eyes.

“No!” I protested, trying hard to hold back a laugh, “He’s our guest! And our friend. You will not throw him out! Geralt, I swear!”

He huffed, amused at my outburst, smiling at me with a love-drunk expression that I just wanted to kiss out of his face. He could drive me crazy sometimes!

“I’ll go make your bath now,” I stated, trying to step away from him, but he still held me close to him. I sighed, turned my head towards him and pressed one last kiss to his lips, and finally, he let me go, following close behind me as I walked towards the washroom.

I filled the bathtub with steaming water and turned to leave.

“You’re not staying?” Geralt pouted, jokingly.

“As much as I would love to, I don’t fully trust Jaskier with the food,” I told him. “And I’m pretty sure you can wash yourself without my help,” I added with a smirk and cocked brow.

He returned the smirk. “Hmm, yeah, but I like it better when you do it.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I noticed.” Leaning down, I gave him a quick kiss before walking out the room. In the doorframe I turned.

“And don’t stay in there for too long. I want to sleep next to my husband tonight, not next to an oversized raisin,” I laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go before Jaskier burns the house down, woman,” Geralt grumbled, but with an amused undertone that I just couldn’t miss.

“Love you too,” I smiled and left.

Once down in the kitchen, I took my place in front of the stove, finish preparing the stew and lowering the flame, leaving the stew to simmer. After that, Jaskier and I went outside to feed the animals; the bard insisted on tending to the goats and chickens and I shrugged, making my way to the paddock. Roach, Shadow and Daisy, our donkey, let out excited whinnies and, uhm, yells, when they saw me approaching with a basket full of apples and carrots on top of a pushcart of hay. 

“I know, I know. You’re hungry, but… good gods…” Shadow’s fur, usually dark grey, almost black, was nearly completely beige from dried mud. Daisy didn’t look any better, and Roach was dusty from weeks on the road.

I set the pushcart down in front of the paddock, just out of their reach as they were sticking their heads out over the fence, trying to reach their food. I laughed and went inside the stable attached to the paddock, grabbing brushed, ropes and holsters for each of them. Loaded, I walked onto the paddock, and directly up to the horses – and donkey.   
Shadow went first, she was the dirtiest one. I slipped the holster over her head and tied her to the fence. It took a while to get her clean, but luckily she was patient, and knew that if she behaved well, she’d get a treat. Well, she knew it well enough to push me towards the fence once I untied her, signalizing me to get an apple from the basket. Laughing, I did.

“Here, you sassy girl,” I laughed as I held the apple out to her and she immediately munched on it, then galloped away a few paces, so I couldn’t tie her up again. I shook my head at her behaviour and went over to Roach, giving her the same treatment as Shadow received before, but it didn’t take that long, since Roach was only dusty, and not completely crusted with dirt. She, also, demanded her treat and ran off.

Last was Daisy. She looked at me challenging, seeing what I had done to her friends. She was no fan of being groomed, but she absolutely loved cuddles. All I had to do now was fool her into thinking I would just cuddle her. Well, that was easy.

“Come here, Daisy. You want to cuddle, girl? Come here,” I cooed at her, crouching down. At first, she only looked at me, not sure, if she could trust me. I held my hands out and tentatively, she took a step forwards. I repeated myself, cooing for her to come to me, and was almost run over by an overenthusiastic donkey. I cuddled her for a short while before quickly slipping the holster over her head and tying her to the fence. She wasn’t happy, but luckily, she didn’t kick me. While I let the currycomb circle along her body, I scratched behind her ears, and miraculously, she behaved. Once I was done, I gave her the treat and let her go, watching as she ran to her friends. 

I set their food up and went to the goat pen. Jaskier was playing with the baby goats, as I had expected. The little bleating balls of fur were jumping around him, slipping from his fingers when he tried to catch them, and then jumping back to him, to repeat what they had done before.

“Careful, their mother can bite,” I warned the bard, but to my surprise, the old goat was munching on the fresh grass, not caring for the intruder playing with her babies. “Or she’s happy to have them off her… hooves for a while,” I shrugged.

Finally, the bard was able to tear his eyes away from the little goats and turned towards me.

“Nienna! How can you not spent every minute with them? Look at them, they’re so cute,” he squealed excitedly.

“You know… I would, but I have work to do,” I smiled at the goats. “Now, come on. Can you help me lay the table, dinner should be ready in a moment,” I asked him, tearing my eyes away from the pen to glance at the sky. The April sun was preparing to set, already tinting the sky a hint of orange.

Groaning, Jaskier stood up and walked out of the pen. Closing the gate, he turned. “Good night, cuties,” he cooed and followed me inside.

I got out all the plates, bowls and cups, conjuring a pitcher filled with ale. Jaskier put everything neatly on the table and I went upstairs to tell Geralt that dinner was ready.  
When I reached the washroom, he had just gotten out of the tub and was now drying off, his back towards me. I stepped up to him and hugged him from behind, taking in his scent of leather, the soap he had used and whiff of horse, still. I loved his scent. My fingers exploring his abs, I kissed along a scar on his back, muttering against his skin as he hummed appreciatively at my touch. “Dinner is ready, minne.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and turned around, “And the bard still didn’t leave,” Geralt grumbled.

“And he won’t. Jaskier is our guest!” I said firmly. But I understood why Geralt was saying that. And good gods, I wanted it too, wanted him, but I wouldn’t throw Jaskier out for that. We’d have to wait for the bard to leave on his own.

I grabbed his hand, wanting to pull him after me into our bedroom, so he could get dressed. I looked at it. It was very wrinkled.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay in the water too long, raisin?” I teased him, staring up into his eyes. He held the stare for a moment, narrowing his eyes in a challenging way.

Then, completely unexpected, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up. With a surprised squeal, I wrapped my arms and legs around his neck and hips.

“I didn’t have you to help me,” he muttered against my lips, “so it took longer.”

“Hey! While you were in there, soaking, I made dinner, fed the animals and groomed the horses,” I protested, leaning back a little.

Geralt, sure I was secure and wouldn’t fall, let one of his hands grab the back of my head.

“Shh, I know,” he mumbled before capturing my lips with his, walking to set me down on the chest at the foot of our bed. We parted and he got dressed in fresh clothes I had laid out for him. He took his time, putting up a show for me, as I just couldn’t help watching his muscles ripple with his every movement.

“Geralt,” I whined, “Hurry up. Jaskier is waiting downstairs, probably already wondering what is taking us so long.”

My husband smirked. “Then let him wonder,” he murmured as he slipped his tunic over his head.

I groaned in frustration. “You, me minne, can be a damn arsehole sometimes, you know that?!” 

Geralt let out one of his rare laughed, guttural and deep. “I just love teasing you, Nienna.”

“Yeah, I see that,” I huffed.

“Now, come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m hungry,” he said almost casually.

“Oh, are you now!”

“Hm-hmm.”

I shook my head and scoffed, following him downstairs into the kitchen.


	37. I Had A Dream of us Having A Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did i hint at Ciri being Geralt's child of surprise without even noticing first, and then just went along with it??? Maaaybeee...
> 
> Also, i wanted Nienna to experience the miracle of childbirth, before giving birth herself, if that makes sense (?)...
> 
> a shorter one, hope you enjoy <3

Jaskier stayed for another week before realizing that Geralt and I needed some time alone for ourselves. He stayed in Sodden, though, travelling from town to town and entertaining in the taverns.

After about three weeks, I was called to the village. Ana was giving birth, and though I didn’t know much about that, never have seen a birth ever before – well, apart from our goats -, she wanted me as her midwife. 

When I got there, she was laying in her bed, sweating and clutching on to her husband’s hand. Thank the gods; he was there for her. And dear gods, what do I do?!

Okay, breathe, Nienna. You got this. Mother told you what to do, remember? Just relax and let her instruction guide you.

“Help me sit her up more,” I told her husband, propping Ana’s back up with more pillows. “Ana? I’m going to prop up your legs. Keep them like this, okay? And breathe,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but I was nervous. Was I doing it right?

The contractions became stronger and the time between them shorter. By now, the poor girl was hissing every time they shook her body. The baby would come soon. I conjured a big bowl of hot water and some clean towels.

“The next one, you press, okay?” I said, and she did. Three more and I held a screaming little girl in my hands, while the mother lay there panting, tears in her eyes.

“Congratulations, it is a girl! Do you want to cut the umbilical cord,” I asked the father. He nodded.

“She’s so tiny,” he whispered.

I bathed the little girl, wrapped her up in the towels and handed her to her mother.

“You know where to find me should you need me. Again, congratulations. She’s gorgeous,” I smiled at them both before leaving.

Exhausted, I made my way back home, Shadow carrying me along the familiar way, I didn’t even have to hold her reins. So, I leaned forwards on her neck, resting against her and eventually falling asleep.

Her soft whinny woke me only a few minutes later, and I got off her back, falling directly into the arms of my husband, whom I didn’t even notice coming out of the house.  
“Hard day?” he asked, picking me up and carrying me inside.

I hummed in agreement, as he sat me down on the bench, before going back outside to pull saddle and bridle off my horse. I was resting my head on the table when Geralt came back in.

“That bad?” he asked.

“Believe me, childbirth is so much more brutal than it first seems,” I yawned, glancing down at my dress, now slightly stained with blood.

“Come here,” Geralt said, picking me up once again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me up the stairs and sat me down on our bed. I helped him pull off my dress, leaving me in a thin chemise, and let myself fall back onto the bed. Geralt undressed as well, I could hear his clothes hitting the ground one after the other. Then, the bed dipped down and I was pulled against him, my back flush against his chest.

“Sleep, my love,” he whispered against my skin, kissing my shoulder softly, “You need it.”

“Mh-mhh,” I hummed weakly in reply.

It was true; I needed sleep. A child from the village had come here in the middle of the night, telling me that Ana was in labour. I had spent my day with her and her small family from the early morning hours to late noon. The lack of sleep caught up on me.

I snuggled closer to Geralt, his hand resting on my lower stomach held me close to him as I soaked up his warmth. He was still softly kissing up and down my exposed shoulder, the touch of his lips along with his even breath and slow, steady heartbeat calming me down immensely as I fell asleep in his arms. 

I dreamed about holding a child of our own in my arms; the little girl’s hair white like her father’s and her eyes as green as a young leaf. I could feel the joy that Ana must have felt, the pain from a few minutes ago forgotten.

Too soon, I woke up, the bed completely empty. It was late afternoon now, maybe even early evening, as I got up and went to search for my husband. I found him in the kitchen, stirring in the pot of leftover rabbit stew from yesterday.

“Did you sleep well, my love,” he asked when I wrapped my arms around him from behind.

“Yeah,” I yawned, the remainder of my tiredness slowly leaving my body.

“And after what you’ve seen, you still want to go through the same?” he chuckled.

I pulled him to turn towards me. “Yes. I mean;” I sighed, “Ana was in incredible pain the whole time, but the moment she held her daughter, all that was forgotten. She was so happy, and so was her husband. Geralt, I want that for us. You should have seen them!” I beamed at him.

“You’re still so sure we can do it, huh?” he murmured, smiling down at me.

“I know we can. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but earlier I had a dream of us having a daughter. She had your hair and my eyes, and she was just… she was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I sighed.

Geralt smiled at my description.

“You know, my love,” he mumbled, gazing deep into my eyes, “If we really do it, if we are able to have a child, I would wish for it to be a girl. A little girl just as beautiful as her mother.”

“Yeah?” I whispered, “Well I would like a son, as handsome as his father.”

I leaned up on my tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on my husband’s lips. With a deep hum, just as I was about to pull away, he cupped my cheeks and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss.

But when the smell of something burned filled the room, we shot apart and I quickly sat the pot off the stove.

“Fuck,” we both muttered in unison, causing me to giggle slightly, as I lifted the spoon out of the pot. The bottom of the pot was crusted, but the rest of the stew was still edible, so it wasn’t that bad. We ate, talking about everything and nothing, the topic of children forgotten for some time. 

When we went to bed that night, we attempted to conceive one though. But, as the following week showed, to no avail. We would keep trying though.


	38. I’ll Come Back To You As Soon As I Can

It was summer now. The days were warm and long, and the monsters out there were still restless. There were reports from the north, of multiple monsters; a bruxa, kikimoras, ghouls, a manticore and so many more. Geralt would have to leave soon. It had been about two months since he came back from the werewolf job, way too short in my eyes, and I was reluctant to let him go. But I knew I had to. It was his life after all.

So, I helped him prepare for his trip. Stocked up his potions, fixed little rips in his clothes, cleaned and greased his armour, so the leather would be soft and not crumble at his movements. I even trained with him, something I hadn’t have time for in the past weeks, but now that he was going to leave again, and needed a little training after two months of doing the bare minimum – training wise – I made time for it.

So there we were. Currently, Geralt was delivering blow after blow, and I was struggling to block all of them. His movements were incredibly fast as he spun around me, trying to find a gap in my defence. It didn’t take him long, because, apart from our occasional training, I hadn’t fought in a good two years. Had it already been two years since my last hunt? Insane.

With a quick spin, I moved out of Geralt’s way, making his sword hiss through the air next to me. But, rusty as I was – or maybe it was my plan – I spun into the wrong direction: not away from my husband but right into his arms. If it had been a serious fight, it would have meant certain death. But it wasn’t a serious fight and my opponent was, well, my husband.

So, instead of raising my blade again, I let it drop to the ground, using the brief moment of Geralt’s confusion as to why I wasn’t fighting anymore to put my hand in the nape of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He did respond, but to my confusion, pushed me back only moments later, stepping back to take in a fighting stance.

“Oh, nono, my love. We’re not done here, yet,” he chuckled.

With a huff, I picked my blade back up and attacked him. Our dance continued for a while, our music the sounds of blades cutting through air and swords smashing together. 

Geralt pushed me back further and further towards the seam of the small forest and soon enough he had me backed up against a tree, the tip of his blade resting right between my breasts. Defeated, I dropped my sword, for good this time. With a quick movement, he cut the laces at the front of my dress and dropped his sword to the ground.

“Hey, I liked that dr-” I exclaimed, but was shut up by his lips crashing on mine. His kiss was demanding, teeth tugging at my bottom lip as he pressed me up against the tree, and I oh so gladly replied. 

“So, now were done here?” I chuckled breathlessly once we parted for air.

“Hmm, I had to defeat you. With you surrendering it’s too easy,” he muttered against my neck, nibbling at the skin. “I had to earn my reward.”

His growl shot straight to my core, making heat pool between my thighs, his lips on my neck adding to it quickly. I threw my arms around him and his hands travelled down to the back of my thighs, urging me to jump. With my back pressed against the tree, I wrapped my legs around his waist, a sharp gasp leaving my lungs when Geralt nipped on my sweet spot. My fingers clung onto his hair, tugging on it, guiding him back up to my face. He let out a deep groan just before smashing his lips back on mine, his tongue swiping along my bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. I gasped into the kiss, opening my mouth for his tongue, fighting it for dominance with my own. Just like our battle before, he won.

The heat in my core started to grow into and unbearable flame and I rutted my hips against his, looking for some kind of friction. With the shift of position, I could feel how hard he was already, straining against the confines of his oh so tight leather trousers. I rolled my hips against his bulge, the new position now finally providing a little of the much needed friction, but both of us needed more.

Panting, we broke apart and Geralt sat me back to my feet. 

“Not here,” was all he said, before picking up both our swords in one hand, using his other to drag me off towards our house, both of us impatient to reach our bed.

So impatient that, once we entered our house, Geralt laid the blades on the table in the hall and then picked me up by the back of my thighs again, our mouths devouring one another within seconds. Blindly, he walked up the stairs, slamming me against the wall, once we reached the top.

With my hands on the back of his neck, I tried to grasp the hem of his tunic. Noticing what I was up to, he let my legs drop and pulled back a little, lifting the fabric off his body. I watched, transfixed by the sight of the rippling muscles of his chest, stomach and arms, as he threw the tunic over his shoulder. I think I even drooled a little and the flame in my belly grew even larger.

Using our parted state, Geralt took hold of my dress, lifting it off my body. He let it drop next to his feet, taking in my naked glory, glowing golden from the setting sun – we both were. His hands reached out for me, slowed by awe.

I, on the other hand, acted fast. I pushed myself off the wall and jumped at him. He caught me with ease, snapping back to reality, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, latching my lips back on his. 

Geralt walked us over to the bed, letting us drop down on the soft mattress. Before his weight could crush me, he caught himself on his forearms. Together, our lips still connected in a hungry kiss, we awkwardly scooted to the middle of our bed, and that was when the pace changed. Geralt would leave in the morning, for only the gods know how long. We would savour every second we had together.

Ever so slowly, he kissed down my body that was already shaking with anticipation. He nibbled along my collarbone, coaxing tiny gasps from me. I felt him shift above me, and soon his hands were travelling down my sides, feather-light touches from his calloused fingers leaving goose bumps in their wake. He kissed down the valley between my breasts and down way stomach, his mouth joining his hands at the waistline of my underwear, glancing up at me with dark eyes filled with desire and love, as he pulled the fabric down, his lips following the path of one of his hands, kissing down my thigh. Once the panties were off me, he discarded them next to the bed and slowly crawled up my body, his golden eyes fixed on me like those of a predator.

I shivered at the intensity of his stare. When our heads were on one level again, Geralt lied down on his side next to me and pulled me close. Capturing my lips in his once again, he kissed me gently yet demanding. With my body pressed close to his, he let himself roll onto his back, with me on top of him. We let our kiss deepen once more, tongues fighting and sucking on each other, before we broke apart for air. I let my mouth wander from Geralt’s lips to his jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses in my wake. His rough stubble tickled against my lips. Humming, I kissed down his neck, giggling lightly when I felt his pulse flutter against my lips as I reached his pulse point. I stopped there to suck a hickey on his neck. 

Even though it’d be gone in latest two days, I wanted to mark him, when he was about to leave, showing every woman he may come across that he already belonged to someone. Not that I didn’t trust Geralt – far from it – but it still calmed my mind to have people see that he belonged to me, especially when I couldn't be with him.

Once I was convinced the mark was dark enough and would stay long enough, I licked soothingly over the skin, coaxing a deep groan from the man underneath me. I continued to kiss my way down his body, paying attention to every scar that littered his broad chest and chiselled stomach, moaning softly when his muscles rippled beneath my lips with every of his small movements. I worshipped him, his body, taking my sweet time, until every inch of his torso had felt my lips at least once.

Then I sat up on his thighs, admiring what my kisses had made out of him. Geralt’s eyes were screwed shut, brows knitted together, his mouth hang open and his chest heaved. My love bite stood out dark purple against his pale skin.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it,” I whispered, feeling a little guilty.

“No, I love it,” he heaved out back, “But… something else does.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled and let my skilled fingers unbutton the fly of his breeches.

Rock hard and throbbing, his member sprung free, standing proud against his stomach. Even more heat pooled in my belly at the sight – and at the thought of having him inside me again. Impatiently, I tugged his tight leather trousers from his muscular legs. Gods, why was he so big and his clothes so tight? He looked amazing in them, but getting them off his body with a sex-hazed brain was fucking hard – every time!

Finally, I pulled the last bits of his trousers off his body, and threw them down onto the ground. And then, I did what Geralt had done before. I crawled up his body, slowly, and kissed along his legs, his hips, his torso, all the way up to his lips again. My thighs were straddling his hips now, and his hands on my waist. With one last kiss, I sat up.

“Ready?” I chuckled. Geralt shot me a playful glare. Sure we were ready! We had already been ready when we made out against the tree outside.

I sat up on my knees, guided by Geralt’s hand on my hip. His other hand left my body to grasp his length, guiding it towards my entrance, swiping it up and down my slit, coating him with my arousal, as my hands lay flat against his toned stomach for balance.

Slowly, I sank down on him, throwing my head back, a satisfied groan erupting from both of us at the feel of being united like this once again. He stretched me in ways that only he could, reaching every spot that added to the sweet pleasure. Once he was fully sheathed within me, I halted, adjusting to his size.

Geralt put both of his hands back on my hips, ready to guide my movements once I was ready. And only moments later, I was. Slowly, I began to rock on him, circling my hips. Every nerve ending was stimulated by his length, and I let out breathy moans, tipping my head back.

One of Geralt’s hands slid up my body to grasp my breast, massaging it gently, thumb swiping over the pebbled nipple ever so often. I let my hands glide up his body until they were resting on his chest, leaning forward slightly, the change of angle making the head of his member stroke over my sweet spot and I moaned out loudly, clenching my inner walls around him. This elicited a deep groan from him, making me move a little faster on him. 

His hand left my breast and he placed it at the back of my neck, pulling me down to him. He planted a gentle kiss to my lips and shifted, slowly turning us around. When my back hit the mattress, I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair, keeping his head where I needed it to be: close, with his lips against mine, tongues dancing.  
Now that Geralt was in control, the thrusts became deeper, more powerful, but still remained slow. We were in no rush to get this over with, to reach the peak, to let out our bottled longing. No, we wanted to savour our time together, being joined in the closest way possible. This would be the last time we were together in a long time and we wanted to make every single second last.

I rolled my hips up in time with his slow thrusts, both of us moaning at the feel of each other providing sweet pleasure. Soon enough, the hot coil in my bully started to grow more rapidly and my walls started to twitch and tighten around Geralt’s member. He groaned deeply and picked up the pace a little, unable to keep it slow anymore. My moans rose in pitch as he drove into me, clenching around him and holding on to his white strands for dear life. I was careening to the edge now, and from the way his grunts became even deeper – as did his thrusts – I could tell Geralt was close too.

One last time, he changed his angle a little, the tip of his length now brushing deliciously against my sweet spot, while his pubic bone rubbed against my clit. I cried out at that, the coil growing even faster now. I felt Geralt twitch within me, and grow even harder. A few more deep, long thrusts and I was thrown over the edge, vision going white as my body shook with pure pleasure.

My walls quaked around him, tightening even more. After three more thrusts, Geralt came inside me with a deep roar, collapsing on his forearms as he lazily rocked into me, riding out both our highs. My still shaking walls milked him to the last drop.

We stayed like this until my walls stilled and he grew soft within me, calming our racing hearts and heaving breats. Only then, he rolled off me, pulling out in the process. I whined a little at the loss of him, feeling empty and incomplete without him filling me.

Geralt pulled me to lay my head on his chest, wrapping his arm around my waist. I let my fingers wander over his body, tracing his scars and playing with the curls of his chest hair.

“I love you so much, Nienna,” he muttered sleepily. “I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

I smiled and glanced up at him, eyes droopy from the long day of, uhh, exhausting activities. He always promised that before he left, and it was yet to happen that he broke that promise.

“I know. I love you more, Geralt. Please be safe out there,” I mumbled back, closing my eyes and yawning. 

He hummed in response and pulled me a little closer to him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I could feel the essence of our pleasure trickling out of me slowly, and I sent a silent prayer to Melitele that she may grant us her blessing this time.

We fell asleep to the even beating of our hearts; mine so much faster than Geralt’s, creating a comforting harmony.


	39. The Goddess’ Gift

When I woke up the next morning, the bed was empty and cold, no sign of Geralt to be seen. He had left in the early morning hours. I wish he had woken me, so I could have kissed him goodbye and wished him luck.

I stretched, letting my fingers fell the sheets, with my eyes still closed. My fingers grazed something and I opened my eyes. On Geralt’s pillow lay a piece parchment.  
‘My love, by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. Just know that I love you with all my heart and will try to return to you as quick as I can. I didn’t want to wake you, please forgive me for that, but you looked so beautiful and at peace, I didn’t want to take that from you. I love you, Nienna.’ It read.

I smiled and wiped a tear from my eyes. Who would have thought that this mountain of a man, trained – no, made – to kill, would be such a softie?

Softly, I pressed my lips to a slightly wrinkled spot of the parchment, meaning his lips had touched it before.

Then I got out of bed and went on with my day as usual, doing laundry, taking care of the animals, tending to our garden, stocking up my potions. As always, the coming weeks, I kept myself busy, visited the village, and – thank the gods – ran into Jaskier again. 

He stayed for a while, kept my mind off worrying about Geralt. We often sat in the meadow in front of the house, enjoying the warmth of the setting summer sun. It was one evening like this when I discovered that the young, and often a little foolish seeming bard, was actually highly educated and very intelligent. He told me stories that happened long before even my birth.

“How do you know all that?” I asked him, when he told me about some great war that happened good four hundred years ago. “That happened long before I was born! Even my mother only knew little about it from her enders.”

“I, uh, I studied it. At the University of Oxenfurt. You know… you can’t study arts without knowing about history, or so I’ve been told.”

“You studied?!” I asked, even more surprised.

“Uh-huh,” Jaskier nodded, and with a smirk he added, “And not to shock you even more, but ‘Jaskier’ isn’t my real name… but why are you so surprised? I thought you could read minds!”

“I can’t read minds. I can read thoughts, current thoughts… And… what’s your real name then?”

I felt like an extremely bad friend at that moment. I knew almost nothing about the bard. We rarely – or never – talked about our past, mostly because I was still fighting against tears every time I told someone about mine. All Jaskier knew about my past is that I was half elf, grew up in Dol Blathanna and the story of how Geralt and I met. But I knew so much less about the bard.

“Well then,” he announced, standing up and bowing in front of me reaching out a hand for me to take, “My lady, very pleased to meet you. Let me introduce myself, I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” he said, pretending to press a kiss to the back of my hand.

I ripped my hand out of his – not in a rude way, but in surprise.

“You’re nobility?” I was shocked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t important,” he shrugged, “I went by my nickname for a long time before we met. And my title would have meant shit to Geralt anyway, so why bother? All I wanted back then was to travel with a Witcher… to perform… titles would have only been in the way.”

Jaskier told me about his childhood in the following days and – I was so thankful for that – never pried in mine. He would tell me one funny story after the other, and honestly, I felt sorry for his parents – this man has had a habit for getting into trouble ever since his birth, it seemed. But soon enough, he left to make some coin. He promised to come back soon, though.

It had been four weeks since Geralt – and two since Jaskier – left, and I noticed small changes of my body. First of all, I didn’t bleed that month. I always had been irregular, but I’ve never been late like this. Few weeks later, I woke up nauseous. It got so bad that I slept with a bucket next to my bed, now. And yes, I slept. Usually, when Geralt was away and I was all alone, I stayed up all night, either baking something or brewing potions. But now, I was always tired, the work around the house exhausting. 

It didn’t take me long to realize that Melitele had finally granted me her blessing. I was pregnant! There was a child growing inside me! Finally!

I was overjoyed. We had finally made it! But at the same time, I was terrified. Was our life really this unfit for a child? Was it a mistake, and would our child’s life be terrible? Certainly not; Geralt and I would do everything to keep our child safe, I knew that! 

Geralt… I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him so bad. And I really needed him here right now. But he could be half way across the Continent for all I knew, and what he did was important. 

I felt alone, more than usual, except that I wasn’t. I had this little precious life growing inside me. 

I smiled. I couldn’t stop it. Apart from when the morning sickness brought tears to my eyes, I smiled the whole day through. Now I understood why people told a pregnant woman she was glowing.

Days passed, and then weeks, and still no sign of Geralt. I spent most of my time that I wasn’t working with Shadow and Daisy. Both of them missed their friend just as much as I missed my husband. I was pretty sure they knew what was happening to my body, because Shadow kept her snout against my belly whenever I was close enough.

There were times when I would sit in the tall grass of the large paddock, Shadow lying next to me with her head resting in my lap, while Daisy stood on my other side with her head on my shoulder. I may or may not have slept a night on the paddock with them.

Not long, and I heard a tiny heartbeat coming from out of my belly. There was a tiny bump now; barely visible under me loose dresses, but I saw it. No morning passed that I didn’t thank Great Melitele for her gift, and not a morning that I didn’t curse her when I emptied my stomach into the bucket next to my bed.


	40. Coming Home To A Very Special Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i originally planned this one to be pure fluff, but i added a little angst cos i'm meeaan.   
> also ends in a cliffhanger (mean)
> 
> hope you enjoy <3  
> (Sorry it took so long, was hit by massive writer's block, and my family interrupting every time i sat down to write didn't help much...)

Three months. Geralt had been gone for three months. Summer was getting ready for its grand finale, and I spent my days sitting in the meadow in front of our house, waiting for my husband to come home.

And then, one morning, I was woken up by the thundering sound of Roach’s hooves galloping along the road. Not able to make out what caused the sound at first – my sleep-hazed and hormone-confused brain not really awake yet – I got out of bed slowly. The early morning sun shone bright already, and I shielded my eyes as I made my way over to the chair where I left my clothes from the day before.

I slipped into them slowly, every fast movement could make the slight uneasiness I felt in my stomach turn into a full wave of nausea. But my slow movements were no use. As I laced up the front of my dress, I was hit by a strong wave of morning sickness. Oh, Melitele, why now?

But cursing the goddess was no use. I hurried over to the bucket and emptied my stomach, tears stinging in my eyes. I sat there for a moment, waiting for the remainder of the uneasiness to wash away, the thunder of Roach’s hooves coming closer by the second. Swaying a little, I hurried down the stairs and out the door.

And there, in the distance I saw him galloping towards me. I started running, past the goat pen and the horse paddock, but my body was working against me. I had run about ten yards into the field when my body decided that I couldn’t go further. So I stopped, breathing heavily, clutching my chest.

When I stood up straight again, Geralt was running towards me, the joy on his face interrupted by concern. I started walking towards him, beaming.

“Nienna,” he breathed out worriedly once he reached me, grabbing my elbows gently, “Are you alright?”

I was still breathing heavily and my stomach was protesting. I nodded, grinning at him. “I’m more than alright, minne. I-”

But he interrupted me, having heard something. “Are you alone, my love?”

My grin grew wider. He had heard our child.

“Well, yeah… Why?” I asked, feigning cluelessness.

“I, uh, I thought I heard another heartbe– wait, is it… is it coming from inside you?!” Geralt stammered, finally figuring.

If my grin had been able to grow more, then it had in this moment, but it couldn’t. My eyes filled with tears of joy as I nodded.

“Yes,” I breathed out, cupping his jaw, “it finally worked. Geralt, we did it.”

“You are,” he said slowly, more to himself, trying to wrap his head around what I had told him. “You are pregnant!” he finally shouted out, his hands leaving my arms, wrapping around my waist instead. What he did next was a huge mistake. He swept me off my feet and spun us around, his face beaming. But inside me, nausea grew stronger.

“Put me down!” I shrieked, and luckily, he did as I asked.

“What is i-” he started to ask once I was standing on my own feet again, but I hunched over and, for the second time today, vomited. Geralt held me, so I wouldn’t topple over.

“Sorry,” I croaked when I stood straight. I had almost puked on his boots.

“No, no, don’t be, my love. I’m sorry. I, uh, I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologized, chuckling the last part. “It’s just… You’re pregnant! We’re going to be parents! I don’t know... If it wasn’t for the heartbeat from inside you, I would think you’re jesting!”

“I certainly am not, minne,” I breathed, leading one of his big hands to rest against the small bump of my belly, right above where our child was growing.

Geralt’s eyes lit up when, for the first time, he really felt that there was a life growing inside me. His ears could be deceived, even with his witcher-senses, but not so his sense of touch. Gently, he let his thumb stroke up and down my belly.

“I want to kiss you,” he mumbled, making me raise my head from watching his hand on my abdomen to meet his eyes.

“No, you don’t want to kiss me right now,” I chuckled weakly, gagging slightly at the awful taste that still coated my mouth. 

Geralt chuckled a little and cupped my jaw with his free hand, the other still firmly against my belly, and pressed a gently kiss to my forehead. Then – not before directing us a little closer to our house and away from the puddle of contents of my stomach – he sank down to his knees, hugging my waist and resting his forehead against my belly, listening to our child’s heartbeat with closed eyes.

I smiled, full on crying by now, letting my fingers run through his hair.

“I love you,” he mumbled roughly. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be for our child or for me, but the thought of Geralt talking tour unborn child made the happy tears stream down my face even faster.

“And we love you,” I whispered back.

He looked up, just in time for a tear that had fallen from my eyes to drop onto his cheek. Quickly, he stood up and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Don’t cry, my love,” he whispered into my ear, planting a soft kiss on my temple.

“I can’t,” I laughed through the tears, “I’m just so happy. I’ve wanted to tell you for two months now. And now… it’s all too much.” I buried my head into his arm, wiping my eyes on his tunic. “I’m sorry… it’s… my body is all over the place.”

“My love,” Geralt said firmly, pulling back a little to gaze into my eyes. “Don’t apologize for something that you have no influence on. What is happening now is wonderful. And fuck! If I could cry, I would, too, right now.”

He wiped the still spilling tears from my cheeks with his thumb and then leaned down to pick me up. Before I could really react, he had sat me onto Roach’s back, leading the mare the short way home. In front of the stable, I let myself fall into my husband’s outstretched arms. I used the time he was occupied with pulling saddle and bridle off Roach and cleaning her to quickly go inside and wash out my mouth. When I came back out, Geralt had just finished with Roach, letting her run to her friends. 

I stepped up next to him and he put his hands around my shoulder. With a content sigh, I let my head fall back.

“You know,” I started quietly.

“Hmm,” came a deep hum for me to continue.

“They noticed. Every time I was near them, Shadow kept her nose close to my belly. She’d always walk next to me, for me to hold on to her, should I stumble. And when I sat down, she’d put her head in my lap. And Daisy wanted to cuddle even more than usual.”

“Hmm,” the hum rumbled again, “I’ve always like them better than people. They’re so much smarter,” Geralt chuckled.

“I know that you prefer their company over people,” I laughed. “Oh, speaking of company… Jaskier visited about two weeks after you left. He stayed for two weeks, and then left for the next town.”

The arm around my shoulder tensed up slightly.

“Geralt?” I asked, turning my head to look at him. His face was just as tense as his arm. “Me minne, what is it?” I asked again, a little hesitant. 

His change in demeanour scared me a little, to be honest. His arm was still around me, but it felt heavy on me; it might as well be a branch from a tree. And he refused to look at me. He just stared into the distance.

Then, very slowly, and very deep, he spoke. “And you’re sure the child is mine?” he pressed out. His voice was dry.

I must confess his accusation hurt. He must know that I was his, and only his; even when he was away. But I also understood why he had said that. To him, it was still impossible to have a child, even if the proof that he was wrong was that heartbeat coming from my belly.

I fought back the hurt. Smiling, I reached a hand up to cup Geralt’s jaw, forcing him to look at me. At the warm, soft touch of my hand, he turned his head. Many emotions mixed on his face: hurt and insecurity were just the most obvious; a little anger maybe.

“Geralt,” I said, “Of course it’s yours! Jaskier is a friend, nothing more. Nothing happened, or will ever happen! Don’t you trust me?”

His expression fell. Now, there was only guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally, “I trust you… with my life. But… Witchers usually can’t have children. Don’t you think the whore houses would be full of pregnant women if witchers could?”

I fully turned towards him, my other hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

“Yeah,” I breathed, “I’ve wondered. But the women working there are human. I… it’s probably stupid, but… what if my parents could have me, because my mother was an elf? What if it’s elven blood that enables a witcher to conceive a child? Geralt, think about it! And for the last time, I assure you, this child,” my hand left his face and grabbed his, to lead it to lie against my belly, “Is definitely yours.” 

I paused, staring deep into his eyes until his expression softened again. With a satisfied smile at the change, I let my hand leave his and slid it to the back of his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair.

“Now, come here,” I whispered as I pulled his head down to me gently, giving him the chance to step away from me, if he wanted. But he didn’t. Quite on the contrary. His hand that was resting on my belly slid to the small of my back, pressing me flush against him. his other hand cupped my jaw and made me tip my head back. And then, finally, he let his head drop, capturing my waiting lips in a soft kiss at first; an apology for his behaviour.

But there was nothing to apologize for. I understood why he thought like that. So, I tangled my fingers in his hair a little more, tugging lightly, and ran my tongue along his bottom lip, then grazed my teeth over it before gently tugging on it.

“I love you,” I mumbled against his lips once we parted for air.

“I love you,” he echoed before leaning in once again, our kiss now deep and passionate. Geralt’s hands dropped to the back of my thighs and I jumped up, wrapping my arms around his neck as he walked blindly around our house towards the forest. At its seam, he stopped, turned around and sat down, leaning back against a tree – the tree he had me backed up against the day before he left. Fitting, somehow, seeing that at this tree, we had started our night that left me pregnant. 

I was sitting on his lap, straddling his hips, while he held me close. Well, he held me close with one hand, his other against my belly, cupping the side of the small bump there. I pulled back for air and just watched my husband watch his thumb caressing my belly.

“This really is a miracle,” Geralt muttered after some time. I smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, then leant mine against his, watching his hands on my belly.  
“Or it’s elven blood,” I laughed.

A moment of comfortable silence passed, both of us listening to the tiny beating heart. I let my eyes shift from Geralt’s hand to his chest, taking in his medallion, tracing the wolf’s outline with my fingertips.

“I really hope for a boy,” I whispered, “A handsome and strong boy, just like his father.”

His eyes didn’t leave my belly as he spoke. “I still wish it’s a girl; just as beautiful and clever like her mother.”

I leaned back a little, causing Geralt to lift his eyes to mine, an unspoken question in them ‘what is it?’.

“How much do you think they will be like a witcher?” I wondered, “Since there’ll only be a quarter elf in them, the rest is witcher’s blood…”

“I don’t know,” Geralt sighed. “How much are you like a witcher?”

“Hmm,” I hummed, deep in thought now. “Well… I have heightened senses, sharper than other elves. But I can’t think of more. My heartbeat is normal. Wait! I can use chaos better than other elves. Remember when Filavandrel said humans had polluted chaos? I never had trouble with it. You think it’s because of my father’s blood?”

“I don’t know… could be,” Geralt hummed. I nodded and got off his lap, sitting next to him, my head resting against his still armoured chest, his arm around my shoulders, the other hand still on my belly.

“Stay with me,” I mumbled after another moment of silence, “At least for the winter. I will need all your help.”

“I promise,” his rough whisper filled my ears. His voice that I had missed so much in these past months, “I couldn’t leave the two of you, even if I wanted to.”

I turned my head, beaming at him, only to see that he was already gazing down at me, a love-drunk expression adorning his handsome face. He leaned in to kiss me, our lips barely touching, when a low rumble drove us apart.


	41. Advantages Of Elven Blood

Giggling, I held my stomach. Yes, I was hungry. The early morning had become noon, and my stomach was empty – thanks to the morning sickness.

“We should head inside. I’ll make breakfast, or… lunch. And, uhm, you could use a bath, we both do,” I laughed as I got up, reaching a hand out to pull Geralt up, knowing full well that I wasn’t strong enough to do so – or would I ever be. He got up, accepting my hand afterwards, holding it as we made our way back to our house. 

Back inside, I prepared a meal of freshly baked bread – well, I made it yesterday evening - , goat cheese and fruit from our garden, while my husband ridded of his armour. When I went to cut the bread, Geralt stopped me and took the knife from my hand.

“No,” he said, pushing me back gently and taking my place, “I don’t want you near that. So much could happen.”

To be honest, my heart grew a few sizes. He was already so protective; what would it be like when I was bigger, or when the child was there? But, in all honesty, it was also annoying. The day before he left, we fought with swords and he was delivering hard blow after hard blow. It had been difficult to keep up. One wrong movement and things could have ended badly – but he’d never hurt me. And now, he wouldn’t even let me get close to a small cutting knife.

But I only nodded and did as he asked, grabbing a pitcher and conjuring some cold water.

“Geralt?” I asked casually.

“Hmm?” he hummed in response, still cutting the bread.

“Did you know that Jaskier’s name isn’t really Jaskier?”

To my surprise – well, not really, I knew that secretly, deep down, Geralt did care about the bard – Geralt whipped around – not before dropping the knife next to the bread, of course – and looked at me, surprised, eyebrows raised, wanting me to continue. His face was answer enough and I laughed and continued.

“His name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. And guess what! He’s a noble. The Viscount of Lettenhove.”

“Well, explains a lot. He was always too confident to be a commoner. And his clothes, way too expensive,” Geralt chuckled, nodding.

“He also studied,” I added with a smirk. Now, this surprised him more. He took the bread and placed it on the platter on the table, sitting down, stunned.

“We’re still talking about the same bard, are we?” he chuckled once he regained control over his face.

“Hmm… I don’t know,” I joked, “probably, unless a Doppler took his form and is now playing with us.”

“I don’t think any Doppler would be that stupid.”

“To do what? To play with a witcher or to hurt our friend?” I teased. Geralt’s expression, however, turned serious.

“Both,” he deadpanned.

“So you care about him,” I continued teasing him.

Geralt didn’t say anything. He lowered his gaze to his plate. An answer enough. Yes, he cared, just like I had said.

We ate. I asked a lot about the monsters he had faced while he was gone. As usual, he didn’t give many details, only if they were an easy opponent or how much coin he got for them. When we were done, I cleaned off the table, Geralt paying close attention I didn’t come anywhere near a knife. I only smiled and shook my head.

“You know I’m not stupid,” I pointed out.

“I know, but it took us so long. I just don’t want anything happening to you and our child,” he muttered tenderly, coming up behind me as I was washing off the dishes, putting both his hands on my belly and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I know,” I sighed, leaning back against him, “and it’s adorable. The big, brave Witcher so worried that something might happen to us. I love you. And just so you know, the next person to say that ‘witchers don’t feel’ in my presence can get ready to feel my blade.”

“Just when I thought the warrior inside you had stilled,” Geralt chuckled.

I turned around in his arms. “You should know better than that, minne,” I grinned before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Now come on, you need a bath. I’m done here,” I added, playfully pushing him away from me.

Laughing, Geralt led the way up the stairs. “Hopefully, our daughter won’t be as feisty as her mother. She’d be a handful. And I can’t have the two of you team up on me.”  
“Still so sure it’ll be a girl?” I piped from behind him, “I tell you, it’s a boy.”

“It’s a girl,” he insisted.

We reached the top and I stopped, grabbing his arm for him to turn to me.

“Look, why don’t we wait another six months to see for ourselves, before we fight over assumptions?” I laughed.

“Yeah, seems fair.”

I quickly conjured a bath – warm water this time instead of steaming, seeing that by now, the summer sun was blazing hot. The closed shutters only did little to keep out the heat.  
Leaning against the chest at the foot of our bed, I shamelessly watched my husband undress, taking in every single inch of him that I had missed so much. And noticing me watch, Geralt put on a show, pulling off his tunic teasingly slow, revealing rippling muscles little by little. My mouth dropped open slightly – his body amazed me every single time – and my eyes flicked to his face for a moment. He was smirking.

“Like what you see?” he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t,” I teased. “Now go on, mama wants more.”

“As the lady commands.” Geralt bowed his head, hiding a small laugh in the process, and slowly let his fingers wander to the fly of his trousers, popping the first button. I felt his hot stare burn into me and lifted my eyes to his, flaming amber eyes capturing mine in an instant. I couldn’t look away.

“Gods, I’ve missed you.”  
Hypnotized, I stood up and went over to him, letting my fingers glide over his chest, one hand stopping right above his heart. Just then, I broke eye-contact, focusing on his lips instead as they came closer and closer. I leaned up and smashed mine against his.

My fingers found the fly of his trousers and unbuttoned it quickly. Biting my lip, I stepped back.

Geralt looked at me with a puzzled expression.  
“You simply took too long,” I shrugged, earning a little glare as he pushed his trousers down his legs.

And my mouth fell open again. He really amazed me every time. Damn. And this man was the father of my child. All other women can step back; I’ve won.

“Now, this is just unfair,” Geralt’s muttered words ripped me from my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I’m naked, and my beautiful wife is still fully clothed. Don’t we want to change that?”

“Who said I was going to join you in the bath?” I teased. Well, I said it.

“I do it, now,” he smirked.

“You do now, huh?”

“Hm-hmm.”

Geralt stepped closer to me, resting his hands on my waist for a moment before letting his fingers wander to the bottom of the lacing of my dress, pulling the bow loose. Then he unlaced it slowly. Once at the top, he pulled the string out of the last hoops and pushed the fabric off my shoulders, revealing my bare body to him as the dress pooled around my ankles.

Forgetting my state for only a second, I had expected Geralt to focus on my breasts. But his eyes gazed lower, focusing on my swollen belly, his hands cupping it.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbled, his rough voice so gentle.

“Hmm, you know,” I hummed, “You made that.”

His eyes now flicked to mine, glowing like a smouldering flame in the dim light of the room.

“And you made me the happiest woman on the Continent,” I continued, “Who else can say that they are carrying the child of the famous Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf?”

“Well,” he hesitated, half sheepish, half joking, “Hopefully none.”

“Elven blood,” I chuckled.


	42. I Can’t Wait To Meet Them

By the time we were ready to get into the bath, the water had grown cold.

“Sorry, but it seems I won’t join you in there,” I joked, earning an annoyed glance from my husband, before I stretched out my hand over the tub until the water was warm again.

Geralt climbed in first, sat down and expectantly held out a hand for me to hold onto when I climbed in myself. Except that, at first, I didn’t. I laid out towels and soap, and prepared a few buckets of clean water for us to rinse out our hair later. I also pulled the leather band from my husband’s hair, making the white strands fall free into his face. I let my fingers run through them, gently massaging his scalp.

“Hmm,” he hummed with his eyes closed, leaning back against the tub, “Now come here, my love.”

I did as he asked, now accepting his hand as I settled between his legs, leaning against his broad chest, his strong arms holding me in a gentle embrace, hands resting on my swollen belly. Sighing, I laid my hands atop his, leaning my head back against Geralt’s shoulder. For a while, we just sat there, soaking, listening to the three heartbeats mingling to a peaceful melody.

“I still can’t really believe it,” Geralt’s voice broke the silence. “In, what, about six months, there will be a tiny version of us.”

“And they will have the most wonderful father,” I sighed, gazing up at him. my comment earned me a kiss on the forehead and I smiled.

“You have way too much faith in me, my love. All I know about children is that most of them are afraid of me.”

“Oh, minne, they only are because their parents are afraid of you, wrongly so. But I must confess, you can look a little intimidating from time to time,” I chuckled.

“Well, I still have to keep the Witchers’ reputation.”

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“Hm?”

“I wanted to visit Ana. You know, the woman who wanted me as her midwife. Her husband left again, and I wanted to help her a little. Then you can meet her little daughter.”  
“I… I don’t know about that.”

“Come on, Geralt, please, for me. And for our child,” I begged him, turning around to face him.

“Alright, but if she cries because of me, I’m leaving. I don’t want the poor thing traumatized,” Geralt gave in.

I smiled, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Then, I grabbed a rag and the bar of soap – scented with flowers from the meadow in front of our house – and started to scrub off my husband. I was relieved beyond measure when I didn’t find any new scars on his chest and arms. But that changed when I asked him to turn around. A long scar ran across his left shoulder blade. I traced it with my finger.

It was still a little red; must be from his last job before he came home.

I didn’t even need to ask for him too answer my question.

“Kikimora again… somehow got one of its legs into my armour.”

“You need to be more careful now, me minne,” I mumbled against his skin, just before pressing a small kiss to the new scar, “For us.”

“Don’t worry about me, Nienna. I’ve been doing my job for about sixty years now, I’ll be fine.”

“You have no idea how not-calming that is, old man,” I laughed.

“You’re one to speak,” Geralt returned.

“You still look older than me,” I huffed, not knowing how else to answer.

Geralt only laughed and turned around, taking the rag and soap from my hands.

“Okay, your turn.”

He washed me off, like I had done for him earlier. Once he was done, his hands returned to my belly.

“How big are they now?” he mumbled against the side of my neck, his head resting on my shoulder again. I grabbed his hand, his thumb and put my fingers around the first joint, so only the tip of his thumb was visible, and held it up for him to see.

“About this big,” I answered, smiling about how excited Geralt was now about our child, when only a few months ago, he deemed it impossible for us to become parents.

Once the water grew cold, Geralt climbed out the tub, helping me out after him. We dried off, slipped on thin clothes and went outside to feed the animals.

On the paddock, Geralt watched as Shadow and Daisy wouldn’t leave my side. They actually kept Geralt from me, wanting to be the ones closest to me. We both laughed and shook our heads. Roach was standing next to Geralt, watching closely what her small herd was doing with me, before coming over and joining her friends, bumping her nose against me belly ever so softly.

“Seems like you’re not the only protective one here, minne,” I called out, standing on my tiptoes to see Geralt over the tall horses’ backs.

“Looks more like they’re trying to steal my wife, to me,” Geralt chuckled, but with a slightly possessive undertone. Walks around the village would be fun now…

I shook my head, laughing.

“Girls, can you let me go, before someone loses it?” I’m sure they understand every word we say. Blowing through their noses, the three of them stepped back, clearing the way for me to return to Geralt.

Hand in hand, Geralt led me a little into the meadow and pulled me down to sit next to him. We enjoyed the sunset, letting the last rays and the warm air dry our wet hair. Too lazy and content in the situation to get up, I conjured some food and we ate. Afterwards, we lied down, staying like that until the sun disappeared behind the trees, leaving a world of twilight behind.

Only then, Geralt stood up, pulling me up with him. Arm in arm, we returned home and went straight to bed. When we were lying there like we always did – Geralt on his back and I on my side, his arms around me, my head and hand on his chest – his hands still rested on my belly, keeping our child safe. His thumbs stroked light circles on my skin.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Geralt murmured into the dark. His voice told me that he was already half asleep.

“Well, I can wait a little;” I laughed lightly, “Giving birth doesn’t look like it’s going to be fun.”

“You said it yourself: it would be worth it.”

“Yeah, well, that still doesn’t mean that I want to go through that any time soon. For now I just want to feel our child grow inside me.”

A moment of silence passed between us. And then: quiet snoring.

“Goodnight, minne,” I whispered to my already sleeping husband before snuggling more into his chest and embrace – despite the warmth in our bedroom – and fell asleep not long after, a smile on my lips.


	43. Summer Heat And … Another Kind Of Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending with another cliffhanger, becasue still, I'm mean.
> 
> sorry this one took a little longer, but, a little warning beforehand: my semester at university is starting on the 20th (haha it starts 4/20), so i don't know how much i can write then... thanks to corona it'll be online classes.   
> anyway... if you guys want i'll keep you updated. just know that i'll try as often as my imagination and classes allow...
> 
> And, since i haven't said it in some time: Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos. it really means a lot to me as writer newbie (is that how you spell it??). anyway, much love <3 <3 <3

I woke up the next morning with a warm chest pressed against my back and strong arms wrapped around my waist, big hands resting on my belly. This would be every morning from now on; I knew it. Smiling, I snuggled closer to Geralt, not knowing he was already awake.

“Morning,” his raspy morning-voice rumbled directly next to my ear, followed by a soft kiss to the spot where my jaw met my neck.

“Morning,” I echoed, turning around in his arms. When I faced him, his eyes were still closed and a soft smile played on his lips. Ever so gently, I let my finger trace his skin from the temple to his strong jaw. He was always handsome, but in moments like these, when he was completely relaxed, he was simply gorgeous.

When my thumb brushed the edge of his bottom lip, Geralt opened his eyes. His gaze was just as soft as his smile as he leaned forwards a little and kissed me gently. And I responded, lazy from the sleep slowly leaving my body.

Carefully, Geralt rolled us over, so I was lying on my back. His mouth left mine and kissed down my body – rather quickly, I must say, but I knew what he was up to. Once he reached my swollen belly, he peppered soft kisses all over the bump.

“Good morning, little one,” he mumbled against my skin.

Again, a tear of joy slipped from my eye and I laughed. Geralt returned to the pillows and kissed away the tear.

“What is it, my love?”

“Nothing,” I sniffed a little, “Just… this is exactly what I wanted for us. And I still can’t fully believe it. It feels more like a dream.”

“Believe me, my love, this is real,” Geralt murmured, dipping his head down to capture my lips in his for a short moment. Then he pulled back, smirking. “Didn’t you have plans for today?”

“Hmm,” I hummed, agreeing, while I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him back down. “But can’t I just enjoy my husband being back, even for a few more minutes?” I mumbled against his lips before pressing my own against them.

“If you say it like this…” Geralt chuckled once we parted.

We stayed like this for about another hour; just cuddled together, sharing kisses filled with pure love and happiness.

But soon enough – curse the early September sun, it grew too hot in our bed, even with closed shutters.

We had slept naked; we always did. Geralt’s body was always hot, and if we slept dressed and cuddled together, like we did, always, we’d wake up soaked in sweat; every morning.  
But now, with the hot sun rising outside, heating up our bedroom, we didn’t need clothes to start sweating. Entangled like we were, soon the non-existent space between us was sticky from our sweat. But it wasn’t the sweat that bothered us – hell, we were used to our sweaty bodies being pressed together. It was the heat. For once the one radiating off my husband’s body – usually, and actually also currently, very much appreciated – but added to the heat of the late summer sun, it was starting to become unbearable.

And still, we didn’t want to part, still so content in the moment. Still so desperate for one another’s touch after being separated for three months.

Only when I started breathing heavily – easily out of breath now with a child growing inside me – the arms around me loosened their grip and I was pushed gently to lie on my back. I whined a little at the loss of contact, but I was also glad I could breathe again. The cool – well, not so cool, but at least cooler than in our embrace – air filled my lungs as I panted slightly.

Geralt, seeing that it wasn’t anything serious, chuckled. “Since when are you so sensitive to heat?”

“Uhh, three months,” I mumbled, still a little out of breath, “You know… since there is a child growing inside me. Pregnancy has other side effects than morning sickness, minne.” I stopped for a moment. There was something different this morning than it had been the last two months. “Speaking of… I… I don’t feel sick! For the first time in two months!” I more or less cheered the last part. Was it finally over? No more throwing up in the morning and feeling miserable until noon?

“That is great, my love,” Geralt said, probably not really knowing how to answer. I didn’t blame him; the only time he’d been with me throwing up had been yesterday. He probably had no idea how bad it had been from time to time. I turned my head to look at him.

And good gods! He was watching me, eyes glowing in the dimly lit room, and soft and warm like liquid honey. A soft smile – more conscious than the one when we woke up – played on his lips. And then, when he reached out his hand to lay it on my belly, caressing the bump ever so softly, my heart almost burst from adoration.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he whispered after some time, a frown on his face.

“Oh, no,” I laughed a little, “You wouldn’t have wanted to be near me. I wasn’t fun to be around the last two months. You know… they call it ‘morning sickness’… some women don’t have it at all, and some… for some it lasts the whole day. Trust me, you’re lucky you weren’t there.”

Of course I was joking, but seriously, the last two months, I was gross.

“What’s more important is that you’re here now,” I added.

“Hmm,” he hummed, agreeing, “And I promise, I’ll stay for as long as I can and only leave when I absolutely have to.”

“I know, minne, I know. I knew what I signed up for when I chose you.”

“Good. Now, come on. If you want to visit your friend we have to get up.”

And with that, Geralt rolled off the bed, walked around it, so he was standing at my side, and picked me up, carrying me to the washroom. We washed and got dressed in thin, loose clothes, though Geralt insisted on wearing black. I shook my head and laughed.

“If you get too hot, it’s your problem,” I had said. But in the back of my head I thought: if you get too hot, please, please, take your shirt off. he had only shrugged.

After breakfast – for our animals and ourselves - , we saddled our horses and rode to the village. Ana’s house was directly behind the gates. Once we reached it, I jumped off Shadow’s back and tied her to the tree in front of the house – like I had done it by now countless times. 

Geralt on the other hand was hesitant and looked at me, unsure.

“You’ve met her before. She’s nice, you know that. And she’s not afraid of you,” I tried encouraging him just before the door swung open.

“Nienna!” Ana cheered, “I knew I heard your voice!” The young woman smiled at us, holding her little daughter in her arms. The girl was asleep.

“Ana!” I greeted. From the corner of my eye I could see Geralt nodding in greeting. “By the gods! She’s grown so much since I’ve last seen her,” I cooed.

Behind me, Geralt stood a little awkward. Sure, he had met Ana before, but that was when the then pregnant woman visited our home, and Geralt could go outside and tend to the horses. Now he couldn’t run.

Then, Ana’s eyes shifted from her daughter to Geralt, her smile not faltering as she invited both of us in. 

“It’s a good thing that you’re back, Witcher,” Ana said, addressing Geralt with his title – not as an insult like most of the people, but because she felt like she didn’t know him enough to call him by his name. “Nienna will need all help she can get. Let me tell you from experience,” she ended up chuckling.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. Then he turned his gaze to me. “You told her before you told me?”

I smiled, a little guilty. “Geralt, I planned on telling you first, but…” started to confess, but Ana interrupted me.

“As someone who went through that only a few months earlier, I noticed. All she did was to confirm.”

After the tension was gone, it was actually quite nice. Ana made tea for the three of us, having me hold her daughter. The little girl wasn’t as tiny as on the day I helped welcoming her to this earth, but she was still so small. I smiled down at her as she woke up, reaching her tiny hands out to grab my hair.

“Careful, don’t tug too hard,” I cooed at her.

“Oh, but she loves tugging at your hair,” Ana laughed from her current place by the stove.

Geralt chuckled at that, and I didn’t have to look at him to know what he was thinking: and you like to get your hair tugged. I shot him a quick glare, showing him that I knew what he just didn’t dare to say aloud. Raising a brow at him I gave him a look that said as much as: so do you. And he had the nerve to smirk at that!

A quiet cooing caught my attention and I looked down at the child in my arms. She was reaching her tiny hands out to Geralt, cooing excitedly.

“I think she wants to you,” I whispered. My husband looked at me, shocked.

“Go on,” Ana chimed in, coming over to the table with a tray in hand, “Hold her.”

“No, I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You won’t. Come on. Hold your arms like this, and you both will be fine.”

But it was no use. Geralt refused to hold the little girl. And I read his eyes to see why: he was scared. Scared he might hurt the little girl. He was made to kill. All he knew was violence. With me, he allowed himself to have a little softness in his life. But he wouldn’t dare to touch the child, not if my friendship with the girl’s mother could be at stake.

Luckily for him, the little girl – after playing with my hair for a little while – fell asleep, and her mother put her back into her crib. We stayed at Ana’s until early afternoon, talking about, well, a lot of things. Mostly about what we had to expect now. Ana gave good advice on how to handle especially the later months shortly before birth. But we didn’t only talk about pregnancy. There was trouble in the South – but then again, when was there not?

Now that her daughter was sleeping, we left Ana to have a little rest of her own. When we stepped out of her door, the sun was blazing down at us – almost angrily. Luckily, Roach and Shadow were standing in the shade of the tree they were tied to, a large bucket of water standing on the ground. We untied and mounted them, determined to get home as quick as possible.

We rode over the open fields and soon, I started teasing Geralt, challenging him for a race. But he, clearly catching onto what I was trying to do, slowed and stopped Roach.

“You think you should do this kind of stuff in your condition?” he asked, half teasing, half worried – full protective.

“Hmm, minne,” I smirked, “just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I shouldn’t ride my horse, or – as a matter of facts – my husband.”

Then I spurred Shadow and dashed ahead, racing towards home, the little house at the forest seam already in sight. Behind me, Roach’s hooves thundered over the field. I didn’t dare to look back – I knew Geralt would be angry… and rightfully so, if I was anyone else. But I knew my horse, I knew the path and I have yet to fall from a horse; to put it short, I was safe on Shadow’s back, just as safe as in my husband’s arms.

The thunder drew closer and closer, soon he’d caught me. Roach was strong, she had to be, my husband wasn’t a light man. And she was stronger than Shadow; also a little taller. But I was small and light; so the two horses evened each other out when it came to races.

I spurred Shadow again, causing her to gallop even faster over the field. We had almost reached home, but that wasn’t my destination. I pulled a little to the left, racing right towards the forest. With the trees coming closer and closer, I slowed a little.

I knew exactly where I was going – the stream that we had heard the moment we found the spot. While Geralt was gone, I often came here to bathe, too lazy to conjure a bath. There was a small hill in the forest, apparently with a spring inside. From the hill fell a small waterfall right into a pond – not big, but enough for me to be standing neck deep in water. And from the pond led the small stream. It was a very beautiful spot, a clearing around covered over and over in colourful wild flowers. 

I slowed Shadow to a trot now, weaving between the trees. Geralt was behind me, not directly but within eyesight. We were no longer racing, he just followed me. But I could still sense he was upset – not angry, but worried.

Once I reached the clearing, I jumped off Shadow’s back, letting her wander free around – she wouldn’t run away, just like Roach.

Speaking of… just as I turned back around into the direction I came from, I spotted her and Geralt coming closer through the trees.

He was fuming. Fuck!


	44. Who's More Reckless?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter everyone (who celebrates)!!! (and i know i'm late, but it's two days soooo...)
> 
> Anyways, the first fight of their relationship... doesn't last long.
> 
> hope y'all enjoy, have a wonderful day, thank you for taking your time to read. <3 <3 <3  
> and again a little reminder (because i really like interacting with you): my insta is @ killjoy_assbutt, feel free to dm me!!   
> <3

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he yelled before he had even reached me.

I flinched. He never yelled at me. Never.

He noticed, and lowered his voice, but only a little, stomping towards me, letting Roach roam free. “You can’t just run around doing reckless shit. Not anymore! So much could happen! It took us so long, we couldn’t forgive ourselves if something happened!” 

He was close now. I could feel the heat – the anger, the worry – radiate off his body, even through the thick, hot summer air.

I didn’t look at him, I didn’t dare. But I could understand why he was worried. That he felt like he needed to protect me now. Only that he didn’t need to; I was still pretty capable of magic, and even if he liked it or not, knew my way around my sword.

“I’m not stupid!” I shouted at him, finally meeting his eyes – big mistake.

His eyes were on fire, his face was stern. He was so fucking angry and he was trying to hold back – for the sake of our child. But I was angry at him too, for thinking that just because I was pregnant meant that suddenly I was a damsel in constant distress. I was still me! The child of an elf and a witcher, trained and experienced in fighting – thanks to my husband, the very man who was now trying to stare me down.

“I know how to ride! I’ve never fallen off! And I know the way, so does Shadow! It was not reckless! Reckless is what you’re doing, running off, staying away for months, going after monsters that kill everything that gets too close to them, and that all alone! And all the time you’re gone, I don’t even know if you’re still alive!” I continued, then stopped, breathing heavily, tearing my eyes off his.

He didn’t say anything. He knew I was right. But he knew that I knew that it was his job, that he had to do it. It didn’t make things easier, though.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” I whispered after a while of silence between us. And all of the sudden, the tension that was between us started to fade – just as my husband’s anger. “I thought you always liked our races. I wanted to surprise you.”

Slowly, I lifted my gaze back to Geralt. The fire in his eyes had faded. They were just like liquid honey: sweet and soft. But his lips remained in a stern line, his shoulders tense. I gulped, unable to read him, his thoughts, his face, nothing. Tears sprung to my eyes.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” I said one last time, barely audible, “I’m sorry.”

When the first tear slipped from my eye, the stone of his face came to life again. Frowning, he stepped forwards and pulled me into his arms, and I let myself fall against his chest.

“I know, my love, I know. But I can’t help but worry about you; both of you,” he mumbled against the top of my head, “I’m just so scared I could lose you two.” 

I wrapped my arms around his waist, silent tears of both anger and relief spilling from my eyes, soaking his already soaked tunic.

We stood there for a while, letting the last bits of our anger fade in each other’s embrace. Geralt pulled back, lifting his fingers to my chin, making me look up at him.

“You said you wanted to surprise me?” he offered with a sweet smile that had me melting.

“Hm-hmm,” I nodded, “But… our little outburst kind of ruined it,” I sighed, slightly disappointed. “I can still try it though. Close your eyes.”

And he obeyed. I led him to stand at the edge of the clearing, the whole scene in front of us. It was truly breath-taking. Soft, green grass, littered with colourful flowers, the water sparkling silver in the sunlight, and the soft golden light that broke through the trees. And my stunning husband in the middle of it. Do I need to say more? The view was simply gorgeous.

“Okay, open.” 

And he did. But didn’t say anything. While I was eyeing every single detail, he remained quiet. When I looked up at him, I realized that he had been looking at me the whole time, taking in my excitement with as soft smile rather than looking at what I was excited about.

“You don’t like it?” I frowned.

“Fuck, no!” Ouch. “It… it’s beautiful.”

“You know… the water is cool and we’re both soaked in sweat again…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

He caught on my drift, raising a brow. “And you think it’s good for the child if we do it?”

I shook my head at him and laughed. “It doesn’t affect the child at all! At least not in the state I’m in. Do you know nothing about pregnancy? What do they teach you in Kaer Morhen except fighting?”

“Well… nothing about pregnancy. You know, since witchers are usually -“

“Sterile, yeah, yeah, I know… living proof that it doesn’t apply to every species,” I pointed to my belly, “Right here. Two of them, actually.”

“Mhh, my two miracles,” Geralt hummed, turning, and kissed me.

“Elven blood,” I sing-songed, pulling back quickly, so that the kiss was nothing more than a quick peck. “Now, won’t you show your wife how much you missed her?” I teased, smirking.

“Right here?”

“What, as if this is the most public place we’ve done it. Remember the werewolf five days after we met? Right against the tree… the road wasn’t that far,” I reminded him.

Geralt nodded, eyeing the horsed. “We should get them home first. Poor girls, don’t have to see that.”

“But when I said that years ago, you only shrugged,” I laughed.

“Well, Roach couldn’t go anywhere else back then, could she?”

“Yeah, no she couldn’t. But don’t think that just because we’re home, that you can let this drop!”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he chuckled as he pulled me in for one last kiss before walking off to get Roach.

“You better,” I laughed after him, walking over to where Shadow was standing.


	45. Back To The ‘Other Kind Of Heat’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will not be taking criticism for this one. I've done the research and women in the second trimester can be pretty horny.

We quickly led the horses back home, unsaddled them and returned to the pond. I tried to get Geralt to chase me, but he would have none of it. Too scared that something might happen, he kept his arm securely around my waist, keeping me from running ahead.

I didn’t even know why I was this cheery – so much more than when he usually returned (not that it wasn’t the happiest day of my life every time he came back safe from a job, but this now… this was different). My emotions were all over the place. But it seemed to amuse my husband, at least when he wasn’t trying to hold me back.

Soon enough I managed to wriggle out of his grip and grabbed his hand instead, dragging him behind me towards the pond. But he just wouldn’t walk faster. He even laughed at my frustrated huffs! I just shot him a glare and tried to pull harder on his hand, urging him to walk faster, which he didn’t. Arse.

Gods, the way was so much longer when you don’t have a horse!

“What is it with you?” Geralt chuckled as I tugged on his hand for approximately the hundredth time.

“We’ve been parted for three months! Normally, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me for at least four days. So, I could ask: what is it with you?” I said instead of answering him.

Geralt stopped and I was more or less yanked back when I tried to keep walking. I turned, a little annoyed from my impatience to get to the pond. And. He. Fucking. Stopped.

He only chuckled at my face. “Yeah, normally I would. But … there is a child growing inside you,” he reminded me, looking so proud that we were able to say finally that – we both couldn’t stop saying it. “I want you. Fuck, I want to so fucking bad. These months without you were pure torture. But I’m still not sure if it’s best for the chi-”

“Gods! I already told you, it’s fine. It does not affect the child. Not even you could reach that far into me for it to be dangerous. And now come on, minne, I need you!” I whined and tugged on his hand again. 

Smirking, Geralt used the force I put into the tugging to pull me towards him, catching me in his arms as I stumbled into his chest. Steadying me with one hand on my back, the other on my cheek, he kissed me deeply, finally giving in to his need. I softly moaned against him as his tongue grazed along my bottom lip, demanding entrance, which I oh so willingly gave him. I didn’t even fight back as his tongue roamed through my mouth, refreshing the memory of what I felt and tasted like. The kiss made my head spin, as if it was our first kiss, and I wrapped my arm around his neck, resting my hand right where his neck became his back, balling up the thin black fabric of his tunic in my fist. My other hand cupped his jaw in an attempt to pull him even closer to me; an impossible deed, our faces were already pressed together.

I don’t know for how long we just stood there, devouring each other, making up for all the time we were apart. Yesterday was all about our child. Today… today was for us.  
Still, we had to pull away way too early. I was panting for air already and Geralt was breathing heavily. We rested our foreheads together, and – again – just stood there. Geralt inhaled deeply and then pulled his head back a little, gazing down at me, a little confused. I furrowed my brows slightly in question.

“You smell… different,” he answered my silent question, “Stronger somehow. Like when you were cursed.” He took another deep breath, taking in my scent. “Oh, you smell like heaven,” he sighed finally.

I giggled and mirrored his action, deeply breathing in his musk. “And you smell like … Roach. Sweaty Roach,” I teased, laughing harder as he stared down at me, mischief glinting in his golden eyes.

“You’re in trouble, my love,” he muttered, smirking, releasing me from his grip and immediately, I ran from him towards the pond, giggling the whole time. He gave me a head start; he’d catch me anyway.

Weaving between the trees, holding on to some and stopping to turn and look where Geralt was, I saw him just walking after me, stalking me like prey. I laughed harder and kept running. The moment the pond came into sight, I didn’t stop anymore to look back, and that was when I heard Geralt’s footsteps behind me quicken. Within a few seconds, just at the edge of the clearing, he caught me, arms wrapped around my waist, burying his face in my hair that covered the side of my neck.

“Got you,” he growled into my neck. I giggled uncontrollably, suddenly feeling like a twenty year old elf again, who had just made eye contact with their crush. I swear, the child inside me made me feel like one myself again!

I tried to turn around, but Geralt held me in place, kissing and nibbling on the exposed skin of my shoulder.

“And what are you going to do with me, now that you’ve got me?” I tried to sound seductive, but failed miserably because I just couldn’t stop giggling.

“You’ll see.”

Gods, his husky voice sent shivers down my spine despite the warm air around us and his hot body against mine. Finally, he loosened his grip a little and I turned in his arms, only to be caught in a dizzying kiss again. Again, my hands flew to Geralt’s hair, tangling my fingers in his soft strands and tugging him closer, while his hands rested securely on my waist, pressing me close to his body.

And, uh, I felt it. I felt why he didn’t run after me, why he deemed it better to walk after me until I slowed and then pounce.

“Mhh,” I hummed, “you really missed me. All we did was kiss.”

“You’re one to talk. I can smell how wet you are already,” he growled against my lips. Gods, his growling! But he was right. And, uhm, I had been turned on the moment I first tried to get him to race home, because that was the moment I got the idea to bring him here.

“Okay, fair… now,” I tugged on the back of his tunic, “get this off.”

With a smirk and mischievous glint in his eyes, he stepped back.

“As the lady commands,” he repeated what he had said yesterday, and I couldn’t help but smile proudly at how he let me take control for once. Just like I did yesterday, I watched him strip. My gorgeous husband, the father of my child! It still felt unreal. Sometimes I even wondered why he chose me in the first place. But I know why: he loves me, just as much as I love him.

“Mhh, you really like what you see, huh?” Geralt growled again, making me snap from my thoughts. I focused my eyes back on his face, only to see that he was staring lower. Following his gaze, I realized… he was staring at my boobs, peaked nipples visible through the thin fabric of my dress.

“Am I to blame though?” I teased, “You look like a fucking god! Pun intended.”

“Hmm, then how about my goddess reveals herself to me?”

I just smiled and stepped closer to him, leaned up and kissed him, while my hands unlaced the front of my dress and pushed it from my shoulders, letting the fabric pool around my feet. With a soft brushing sound, it fell to the grass. The sound made Geralt pull back and he let his eyes and hands roam over my body. His soft touch made me whimper slightly. Fuck! I know we’ve been constantly touching each other ever since he came back, but hell, it would never be enough. 

And when I met his eyes, the heat in my belly and between my legs started to pool even faster. Gods, his eyes. Just like his touch, I could never get enough of them. So beautiful and intense; golden. Sometimes soft and sweet like honey, sometimes fiery hot like a blazing flame; making my breath hitch every time. And right now, his eyes were a mix of these two things; soft with love and smouldering lust. Gods! This look will be the death of me.

The intensity of his gaze made me shiver and my skin tingle. With an innocent smile, I let my hands glide from his shoulders down his perfectly chiselled torso, all while stepping back. I then walked the short distance to the pond, swaying my hips more than necessary. Only when the cool water covered me – well, it was crystal clear, so it barely covered anything – up to my collarbones, I turned back around. Geralt had watched me the whole time, ready to jump and catch me should I slip and fall. Now, he was following my path, slowly so, again stalking me like his prey, his eyes a smouldering golden flame – like a campfire in a cosy night.

He stopped right in front of me, only a few inches between us. He was so close that I felt the heat radiating off him through the cool water. The water barely reached his chest and I was once again starstruck by the fact that he was so much bigger than me.

“And? Do you like my surprise?” I breathed as he once again leaned down to rest his forehead against mine.

“Hmm, I love it,” his deep voice rumbled, “But your race here was still unnecessary. You could fall off, and I can’t let that happen. Just, please, don’t do it again,” he scolded a little.  
“Okay,” I sighed, “I promise I won’t. Now, come here.”

On my tiptoes, steadied by two strong hands around my waist, I leaned up to kiss my husband, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my fingers in his hair – I just loved doing that. As our kiss grew deeper and deeper, tongues sliding against one another, tasting, sucking, devouring, Geralt’s hands slid further down my back, giving my bum a small squeeze, making me gasp and moan into the kiss, before lifting me up by the back of my thighs.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his rock hard length pulsing hotly against my inner thigh. Shifting a little so he was now directly laying atop of where I needed him most, I started grinding my hips against him, coaxing a deliciously needy groan from Geralt, which only spurred me, making me increase my pace a little. Soon enough we were both moaning without really having even started anything.

“Nienna,” Geralt breathed hotly against my lips, “Stop. If you keep that up… you know I won’t last long.”

Reluctantly – because oh, this already felt so good – I stopped my movement and pulled back a little, whining at the loss of contact. But my whine was soon transformed to a long groan of satisfaction that mingled with his own, as my husband’s strong arms lifted me up, guiding me to slowly sink down on him, sheathing his length deep inside me. The stretch, just like every time when he’d been gone for too long, stung. But the hurt was so good, thrilling, adding more and more to the burning pit in my stomach. After a short moment of adjusting to his size once again, I started rocking my hips against him, both of us groaning in unison again, the quiet gurgling of the waterfall doing little to swallow our sounds. 

There was exactly where Geralt was carrying me now – to the waterfall. Carefully, he leaned my back against the cold stone wall. The contrast of temperature – the cold stone against my back, Geralt’s hot chest against my own – making me shiver and clench around him inside me.

And then, deep, slow – and careful not to harm the child, even though he couldn’t – he started rocking into me, swallowing my moans in his mouth as I swallowed his groans in my own.  
The cool water ran down our heated skin. I just couldn’t stop tugging on Geralt’s wet strands, loving the way his wet mane felt between my fingers and the way he reacted: deepening the kiss even more, letting go of an almost carnal growl as he picked up the pace a little, rolling his hips into me with deep, powerful strokes.

Though the pace was still pretty slow, he knocked the air out of my lungs with every thrust.

“O-oh… I mis-sed… you-u… so… mu-uch. Shit!” I managed to get out between his thrusts, rutting my hips up against his, meeting every single one.

“Fuck! Missed you too,” Geralt groaned in response, adjusting his grip on my slippery legs. And oh, gods! The slight change of angle made me clench around him. He was driving right into my sweet spot now. “So fucking tight. Feel so good,” was all he managed to get out before I locked my lips with his again, moaning and gasping into his mouth as I was drawn closer and closer to the edge. The way his pace faltered as he sped up and how he twitched inside me told me that he was close too.

“Oh, gods! Fuck! I love you!” I cried out, clenching around him. Coming while chanting his name and ‘I love you’-s, broken by my heavy panting. Only a few seconds later, Geralt found his own release. Coming with a deep roar of my name, he stilled inside me, filling me with his warm seed as my walls fluttered around him. Lazily, he rode out our high while joining me in my panted chanting, resting his forehead against my collarbone.

Once my walls stilled around him, he pulled out and set me back to my feel again, strong arms steadying me once again as I tried to stand on wobbly legs. With one last kiss, we parted and climbed out of the water, lying down in the soft grass, letting the sun dry our tired bodies. With my husband’s arm under my head, his hand on the side of my bum, I fell asleep, the slow, even thumping of his heart lulling me into a peaceful sleep.


	46. Peace, Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending with a cliffhanger again. I know, I know, I'm an asshole.
> 
> anyway, enjoy ;) <3

According to the position of the sun, a good hour later, I woke up, completely dry now, except the parts of my body that were pressed to Geralt’s, those were sticky with sweat once again. Geralt… I lifted my head to see he was still sleeping, a soft, unconscious smile adorning his face. I brushed my lips against his temple before standing up, careful not to wake him. Quickly and quietly, I got dressed and collected Geralt’s clothes, laying them on the grass next to him, before returning to my spot at his side, sitting in the grass, watching the soft light of the sun play in the ripples of the water.

I would have given everything for this moment to last forever; my always alert husband calm and relaxed for once, the peaceful summer afternoon, it was perfect. With a deep sigh, I lied back down, resting my head against Geralt’s bicep. Subconsciously, his arm wrapped around my waist, and he grumbled a little in his sleep, pulling me closer. Gods, was it hard not to giggle! But I had to keep it together; he deserved a good nap. 

But as much as I tried, I just couldn’t fall back to sleep. The even breath, the quiet snoring, the slow heartbeat… usually it would lull me back to sleep within a few minutes. Not this time. So instead, I shifted, lying on my side, watching my husband as he slept. Creepy, kind of, I know, but moments of complete peace were rare – still, even with our home as safe haven. And I loved seeing him at peace, strong and hard body, made for fight and murder, relaxed and almost soft for once, no worry etching deep shadows on his face.  
This. This was what he deserved. The man who still saw good in this world that gave him nothing but shit. The man who tried to save everyone who needed him, not expecting anything in return. The man who claimed to never get involved with the stupid conflicts of men, and then ends up in the middle of it.

He deserved nothing but love and peace, and I was grateful every day that he had chosen me to give that to him. And it warmed my heart to see him now, sprawled out in the soft grass, sleeping.

And I let him sleep. Though, it wasn’t long before he stirred, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun. I couldn’t suppress a quiet giggle. He didn’t need to do that, he could just narrow his pupils. But he never did that. Sometimes I wondered if he forgot that, or how he could do that.

With a satisfied groan, Geralt sat up, stretching.

“Slept well?” I asked laughing as I massaged a few knots out of his back.

“Would have been a lot better if you would have stopped fidgeting around,” he grumbled in a sleepy, yet teasing voice. He stood up and put on his trousers again, before sitting back down in the exact same spot where he had lain before, letting me continue massaging his back.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t sleep,” I replied, a little sheepishly.

“Then why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you were sleeping. I didn’t want to rip you out of some much needed rest. I know you don’t sleep well nor much when you’re on the road, minne.”

He just let me rub his shoulders for a moment, leaning into my touch, yet the slight tension in his neck telling me he was deep in thought – unpleasant ones. I knew that tension. A little anxious, I waited for him to snap – I knew he would.

“And what if something attacked?” There it was. But I stayed calm, continued to rub his tense shoulders.

“Then I would wake you, of course,” I soothed, “But what you seem to forget, me minne, is that I’m not defenceless, even without weapon.”

“I know, but it’s draining your energy. Energy you need for our child!” Geralt protested.

I shifted closer to him, wrapped my arms around his neck from behind, pressing my chest against his back, in an attempt to calm him. I know he was worried and only trying to protect us, but he worried way more than he needed to. Kissing at the nape of his neck, his long strands tickled my lips and nose as I muttered against his skin.

“It’s not draining that much.” I kept my voice calm and soothing. “When I’m bigger, then you may be right, but now… Minne, you don’t have to worry. A simple barrier could hold anyone off long enough for you to wake up and fight them. You know that. We’re safe.”

A deep sigh sounded from the man in front of me. “Yeah, I know. I still don’t like the thought of you having to defend yourself and possibly getting yourself and our child hurt, when I easily could have protected you two.”

With one last kiss to his shoulder, I stood up and walked around him, sitting down straddling his thighs. I cupped Geralt’s jaw, gazing deep into his eyes.

“And I know that. Hell! I fucking love how protective you are over our little one already, when only months ago you were convinced that we couldn’t have a child! But just because I said I’d need your help doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

“My little warrior,” he chuckled now.

“I’m still older than you,” I laughed, giving him a challenging smirk.

“But you’re small,” he replied, still chucking, wrapping his hands around my waist for emphasis, his big hands encircling me easily, even with the ever growing bump on my belly.  
“You’re just… big,” I stammered, lacking of a witty return.

With a throaty laugh – still so rare – Geralt pulled me closer to him, lying back down with me on top of him.

“Shouldn’t we go back home? The animals need to be fe-” I started. But Geralt just shushed me. At my disbelieving, exaggerated gaping, my husband only chuckled.

“Few more minutes,” he grumbled, and I just couldn’t protest, feeling way too comfortable in his strong, warm, protective arms and on his strong chest; safe.

But now that all was quiet except the three heartbeats, our even breath and the sounds of the forest around us, a distant sound made my ears twitch. 

The sound came from our house!

It was the sound of the goat pen’s gate opening!

“Geralt!” I hissed, trying to get off him, but he was holding me too tight. Was he fucking sleeping again? “Geralt!” I repeated, “There is someone at our house!”

Finally, his eyes shot open and he pushed me off him, gently so, so I rolled off him while he jumped to his feet. For a second he stood there, eyeing me, contemplating whether I should come with him or – 

“Stay here!” he ordered.

“Wha-, no! I’m coming with you!” I protested. He looked at me, slightly pained now. There was a risk in letting me go with him, but also in letting me here all alone. Geralt sighed.

“Alright. But stay back, got it?”

I only nodded, quickly grabbed his boots and tunic from the ground – we definitely wouldn’t come back here today. Shaking his head, Geralt took his clothes from my hands, lifting my skirt a little and pressing the balled up fabric to my hand instead. 

Barely a minute had passed from the moment I heard the sound to us dashing into the direction of our home, but it felt like an eternity, the trees seeming to block our path, making it much longer than necessary. I was anxious, fearing for our goats but also terrified that an intruder dared to break into our home. By now, many people knew that there was a witcher living somewhere in Sodden, so who would dare?

What we both seemed to forget was the fact that Geralt had put a spell over our home, preventing everyone with bad intention towards us from even seeing our house. But like I said, neither of us seemed to remember that now. All we knew was that we needed to get home as fast as possible to defend our own and punish the intruder.

But the faster we ran, the slower we became. It was about three quarters of a mile from the pond to our home, a run that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, but it felt like we ran for hours – at least to me.

Finally, finally we reached the edge of the forest. Geralt stooped a little ahead of me, holding out his arm, unnoticed to me until I ran straight into it.

“Stay here,” he ordered. He turned, flaming eyes fixed on me, letting me know he was dead serious as he waited for me to react. Quickly, I nodded, holding on to a tree trying to catch my breath. My heart was hammering in my ears, all I could hear was my heavy breathing and my rapid heartbeat.

Geralt started walking again, quickly but quietly, careful not to make a sound, planning to surprise the intruder. I know he told me to stay behind, but I was too anxious to stand here and wait. I tiptoed after him. If he noticed, he ignored it.

Still out of our sight, the gate opened and closed again.

“Hello?” called a voice.

Geralt dashed forwards, one hand outstretched in the sign of Aard. I rounded the corner of our house just in time to see a figure – moving (or rather falling) too fast to be recognizable.

I rushed to Geralt’s side as he stomped up to the now groaning figure in the tall grass and clasped my hands over my mouth when I caught a glimpse of the intruder.  



	47. Aard The Bard

Once the initial shock passed, I burst out laughing.

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. The glare he earned from the man in the grass made me laugh even harder.

“You just used Aard on the bard,” I managed to press out between laughs, Jaskier’s glare now pointed at me, while Geralt looked at me, slightly shaking his head. I didn’t know why the fact that Geralt did use Aard on our bard was so funny; all that I knew was that. It. Was. Fucking. Hilarious.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt directed at Jaskier, who was currently scrambling to his feet. Before he could answer, however, I jumped in, chiding my husband, still wheezing with laughter.

“No, you can’t welcome a noble like that.”

Quickly, I curtsied, giggling uncontrollably. “Lord Pankratz, could we offer you some ale, wine, a place to stay for the night?”

“I know you’re mocking me, but that actually sounds tempting,” the bard mumbled, before turning his attention to Geralt with a raised eyebrow. “What is it with her?”

Geralt sighed. “Don’t mind her, she’s currently going through some… changes.” He pulled the arm I was clinging on from my grip, wrapping it around my waist, his other hand coming up to lay protectively on my belly.

Jaskier’s eyes grew wide as they spotted the bump under my husband’s hand.

“No way!” he exclaimed.

I sobered up in an instant, smiling widely at our friend and nodded. “Uh-huh!”

“Wow, gods, that is amazing! Congratula-” he cheered, stepping closer to us, but he was cut off by Geralt growling at him. Fucking growling! The hands on my body holing me tighter, pushing me to step back a little.

Wide-eyed and taken aback, Jaskier takes a few steps backwards, staring at me, a silent question if I was okay with this. I simply shrugged. It’s not like I could do anything to change Geralt’s behaviour and even when it could be a little over the top in, for example, a situation like this, I loved how protective he was – I can’t say it enough.

Still, a little annoyed, I turned to my husband, who was still staring down the bard, the cold fire in his eyes menacing. But somehow, it still made me laugh and shake my head.  
“Gods, Geralt! He’s not a threat! Calm down.”

But he didn’t. For another long moment, he kept staring at the bard, eyeing him suspiciously. And Jaskier… he was nervously fidgeting with his hands, his eyes shifting from the witcher to me and back ever so often.

Then, finally, Geralt relaxed and loosened his grip on me, both Jaskier and I letting out a sigh of relief.

“Right…” Jaskier dragged out the word.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt repeated in a low growl.

“I, uh, I wanted to visit my friends?” the bard stammered, “I promised Nienna I’d drop by soon. So… here I am. And you are… you’re … pregnant.”

I beamed at him, nodding, and – before Geralt could say anything – invited Jaskier inside. Geralt wasn’t so happy about that, but I only patted his still bare chest and sent him to collect his clothes that were still lying at the forest seam, where he had dropped them.

I used the short moment I had alone with the bard to tell him how Geralt had reacted when I told him that the bard had visited shortly after my husband left and that – even though I didn’t really like it how possessive Geralt was now, at least I didn’t like it around close friends – Jaskier should keep a little distance towards me, as I didn’t want him to get hurt. I had no idea how far Geralt would go to protect me, and part of me didn’t want to find out. I knew what he was capable of, and I had no desire at all to see him use his abilities against our friend. It was for the best if Jaskier kept a little distance. Not that he couldn’t visit – far from it! – but he would have to stand at least three feet away from me, at least when Geralt was around.

Not long before Geralt came back. Jaskier and I were sitting at the table in the kitchen, two pints of ale and a cup of water sitting on the dark wooden surface. The witcher, now fully dressed, eyed us suspiciously, sitting down very – and I mean very – close to me. I might as well be sitting on his lap. I leaned against him, the simple action calming him only in the slightest.

Tension was thick in the air. None of the men dared to say anything; Geralt was glaring again and Jaskier was fumbling with the handle of the pint in front of him.

“Gods!” I exclaimed for the second time in ten minutes, “Stop it, Geralt! He is no threat; not for our child, not for you, not for me!”

“Hmm.”

Okay, if that was how he was going to behave, fine. I shook my head as I turned to Jaskier, smiling, starting a normal – well, mostly normal with the tense and glaring witcher right next to me – conversation with our friend.

“Any news from the South?” I asked after a while of nodding to courtly gossip.

“Uh, not much, except that it’s calm now. But really, for how long?”

I sighed, “Probably not long. Shit. If they were to conquer the North, they’d press through here once they’ve taken Sodden Hill.”

“Maybe there is something to keep them from pushing north. Remember what I said about the princess of Cintra? In about a year, she’ll turn fifteen. She’ll be married off to another kingdom, uniting them, uniting the North and the South,” Jaskier proposed. But I shook my head.

“Do you really think Calanthe would marry her daughter off to Nilfgaard? She would rather die, and that says something.”

I didn’t know much about the different royal families of the continent except the basics and what Jaskier told me, but if I knew one thing about Queen Calanthe of Cintra, it was that the one thing she hated most – besides elves – was Nilfgaard.

We discussed a little more, jumping from topic to topic. Geralt seemed to relax, seeing that Jaskier was, in fact, no threat. Internally, I laughed that he even thought that in the first place – not that Jaskier was defenceless or weak in any way, but all three of us know that against Geralt, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Soon enough, my stomach rumbled and I conjured some food, knowing that Geralt wouldn’t let me near a knife, which I would need in order to cook. We ate; Jaskier and talking the whole time, while Geralt grumbled something in response from time to time, not as tense anymore, but still everything but delighted with the bard’s presence. 

After we were done, I sent both men outside to feed the animals while I stayed inside washing the dishes – but only once Geralt made sure there were no knives laying around in the kitchen. Reluctantly, he left, following the bard, who was already inside the goat pen, feeding the little ones, whining that they had ‘grown up too fast’. I listened to them doing their tasks while I did mine – unfortunately, I couldn’t see them as the sink was nowhere near the window.

I hurried up with my task, listening to the quiet murmur of their hushed conversation. But whatever they were talking about, Geralt didn’t want me to hear it, using one of his signs to keep the sound from reaching my ears. I huffed, finishing with the last plate, setting it in its place before marching out of the house.

When I stepped outside, both were tending to their tasks again. I walked over to where Geralt was loading hay into the crib on the paddock. Almost immediately, Shadow was by my side, and I petted her neck, stroking through her soft mane, dividing it into strands and braiding it.

“What were you two talking about, minne?” I asked casually.

At first, I didn’t get an answer. Geralt was shovelling the hay from the pushcart to the crib.

“I asked him how long he intends to stay,” he said finally, not meeting my eyes as I looked at him expectantly. He was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. 

“Hm-hmm. And the truth?” I raised my eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest.

Finally, he stopped in his action to look at me. His expression was slightly pained, as if he had to make a decision he didn’t like – not in the slightest bit. But he didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to tell me, or should I read it? Your choice, minne. How bad is it?”

“Ah, fuck!” He sighed and dropped the pitchfork, turning his full attention to me. “I asked the bard to stay,” he mumbled, “not directly with us, but in the village. That should I have to leave, you still have someone to help you.”

“That’s it? That’s what you’re upset about? That’s what you didn’t want me to know?” I was laughing now.

“I don’t like it. But I don’t like the thought of you all alone and he is the only person I can ask to watch out for you.”

“Just say that he’s your friend.”

Silence. Shaking my head, I shrugged. 

“I’ll go prepare his room then,” I said, leaving.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Geralt called out and I nodded, not sure if he had seen it.

I know his profession didn’t really allow him to be domestic, but we dealt just fine. But that he was so convinced that he needed to leave soon again, when he promised to stay, hurt. But I was also very glad that he finally trusted Jaskier enough to let him stay with us – or me – while he was (should he have to leave) gone.

I was just slipping a fresh pillowcase on a pillow, when I felt my husband’s presence directly behind me. Geralt slipped his large hands around my waist, letting them rest on my swollen belly. With a sigh, I leaned back against his firm, broad chest, basking in his warmth – the evenings becoming colder rapidly – before picking up the other pillow to slip on the other case.

“How long until she’ll start kicking?” his deep voice rumbled through my ears, the vibrations of his chest sending a tickle down my spine.

“Well, he has get a little bigger to kick. Maybe in three months or so. Right now, he’s barely as big as your thumb, remember?” I hummed, finishing up with the second pillow.

“Can you help me with the blanket?”

“Hmm,” Geralt nodded. “But it’s a girl,” he said, pushing me to sit at the edge of the bed while he put a fresh case on the fluffy down blanket.

Laughing, I shook my head. “I can feel it, it’s a boy. A little Geralt junior.”

“We’re not calling him that.”

“No, I know, one is enough,” I teased, “But he’ll take after his dad, I know that.”

Geralt finished with the blanket and pulled me up, holding me close to brush his lips against my forehead.

“Our daughter,” he said firmly while gazing deep into my eyes, golden irises soft and sweet like honey, “will take after her mummy.”

“Our son,” I corrected.

“Daughter.”

I shook my head – something I did a lot recently. “Six months! All I’m asking is for you to wait six months,” I laughed, “Then you’ll see, it’s a boy. Let’s just hope he isn’t as headstrong as his dad.”

“Or her mummy.”

“His d-” but I was cut off with a pair of soft lips crashing on mine in a demanding kiss. Demanding that I stopped talking back, just that I didn’t. “His dad,” I mumbled against my husband’s lips.

Geralt let out a throaty laugh. “I think they will be stubborn no matter what,” he chuckled before diving back in to kiss me and I gladly responded, clinging on to him, just enjoying that he was back and not grumpy anymore.


	48. Not All Tears Are Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word document I'm writing this in just passed 80k words, and i'm not even nearly done with this story... help.
> 
> as always: thanks for reading <3, enjoy <3, and if you want to talk more dm me in insta (@/ killjoy_assbutt)

For the second time today, we were interrupted by the bard. Standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat. Geralt and I shot apart and I gave Jaskier a sheepish smile, while my husband returned to his usual annoyed mask he put on whenever the bard was around. This may be Geralt’s and my house, but as often as Jaskier stayed with us, he had fully accepted this room as his own. Only that, once the child was there and old enough to have a room of their own, this room would be theirs.

But right now, it was the bard’s – or any guest’s of that matter, but he was our only guest; the only person that we would allow to stay with us. And he was standing in the doorway, lute in hand, with the original plan to put the instrument in his room – to put it out of harm way in the main room (you’d never know what the witcher would do to it if it was just laying around) –, met with the sight of his hosts making out against the bedpost of his bed!

“What? This is still our home!” I laughed at him as he dared to move again, entering the room fully and setting the lute in the chair in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, but we agreed that this is my room,” Jaskier protested.

Smiling, I rubbed my belly. “Not for long,” I hummed.

Jaskier’s eyes shot to my belly, causing Geralt to take in a defensive stance next to me – he couldn’t help himself, even if he wanted to. Before the bard could say anything, the witcher jumped in.

“If the housing does not suit the Viscount,” he started grumbling, “then perhaps he should find a room in the village then? Like we agreed on.”

“Gods! Let him stay for a few days!” I exclaimed, lightly slapping his chest with the back of my hand. The action earned me a cocked eyebrow, which I didn’t notice since my attention was still on our guest. I also didn’t notice him nodding before he started to move, walking towards the door, waiting in the doorway for me to follow him.  
With one last smile, I looked at the bard. “Good night, Jaskier.”

“Good night, Nienna,” he returned, then leaned a little to the side to see the witcher, “Night, Geralt.”

“Hm,” he nodded curtly before shifting his eyes to me, an expectant look in his eyes. 

I rolled my own eyes at him as I joined him, pulling the door close in the process.

“Oh, no. Don’t give me attitude,” he muttered as he led the way upstairs.

“Then how about you treat him better? He’s our friend after all.”

“Your friend,” Geralt corrected, lifting his index finger.

“You still care about him!” I argued.

“Maybe. But right now, I don’t want him too close to you. He causes trouble wherever he goes. I don’t want you in the middle of it. Not in your … situation.”

“Ugh. Gods! That again.” I stopped on the stairs. “Geralt, just because I’m pregnant does not mean I’m weak.”

He also stopped, a few steps above me, overtowering me even more than usual. Golden eyes peered down at me.

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed, “I don’t want you to be stressed. I know stress is bad for our child.”

Damn my lacking control over my emotions! I teared up. The wooded steps creaked and within seconds, I was wrapped in a tight, comforting embrace. Strong arms lifted me off my feet and carried me up the rest of the stairs. Reaching the top, he didn’t set me down. Only when his legs hit the edge of the bed, Geralt sat, with me in his lap, letting me cry into his chest.

He stroked my back gently.

“Don’t cry, my love,” he cooed soothingly and I lifted my head to smile at him.

“I can’t stop,” I laughed through the tears, cupping my husband’s cheek, “But these tears aren’t evil. I love you. So much. And so much more, every time you mention our child.”

Geralt turned his head beneath my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, before turning back to capture my lips in his. The kiss was sweet, full of love and salty from my tears. My tears – caused by chaotic emotions, let loose by happiness – a reminder why our love seemed to multiply with every passing day.

We parted after a long time, the sun already descending when we opened our eyes again. My tears had stopped, all that remained was a soft, loving smile on both of our faces. Carefully, Geralt sat me from his lap onto the bed, then stood to undress before slipping into bed next to me.

I watched him, I always did, never getting enough of this gorgeous man, his large, toned body, his gentle, loving soul hidden beneath the cold, annoyed and often sarcastic exterior.

A gentle breeze entered the room through opened windows and I shivered, hugging my arms around me. I stood and went to shut the windows, the room now cool, but Geralt beat me to it, reaching the window just before me. He was standing so close again, I could feel the heat radiating off his body. One step forward and I was enveloped in his warmth again, his chin resting on the top of my head.

“That cold?” his deep chuckle rumbled more through my chest against his than through my ears.

“Mhh,” I only hummed in response, snuggling closer to him.

With another chuckle, he let go of me and took a step back, chuckling even more when I pouted at the loss of contact. Planting a gently kiss to my forehead, Geralt put his hands on my hips, gathering the fabric of my dress in his fists before lifting it off my body. I raised my arms to assist him, wrapping them around his neck once the dress was gone, tossed to the floor.

Again, strong arms picked me off the floor and carried me over to the bed; only that this time, Geralt didn’t set me down. With my arms and legs wrapped around his neck and hips, his hands holding me up by the back of my thigh and the small of my back, he lied down on his back, my small body draped over his large one, covering us with the big blanket.

I sighed at the warmth seeping from his body into mine and snuggled closer to him, nuzzling my head to the hollow of his neck.

“Good night, my love,” he murmured, and, with a hand touching my belly as much as our current position allowed him, added, “Good night, little one. I love you two.”

“Good night, me minne. We love you too,” I whispered back, my lips softly grazing the soft yet stubbly skin of his neck as another tear dropped from my eye to his shoulder.

“Oh, no. Don’t start again,” my witcher cooed.

I smiled, pressing my lips to his neck. “It’s the last one, I swear. I’m just so happy, minne.”  
“I know. I am too,” he hummed, holding me a little closer.

I fell asleep to the soft beating of three hearts, oblivious to the fact that my husband stayed awake for hours, watching me sleep soundly on his chest, listening for out any sound that could belong to a possible threat, his swords within reach next to the bed. He’d do anything to keep us safe.

***

Jaskier stayed with us for a week, helped with the chores like he usually did: tending to the goats and chickens, helped with the late summer harvest, helped me hanging up the laundry – since, face it, I was tiny and the lines way too high. Geralt did his usual chores: chopping wood, feeding and grooming the horses, and fully committed to his latest one, keeping me safe.

The moment he finished his task, he was by my side. I would have loved to watch him work, arguing that if I was close, he’d be able to keep an eye on me, but since he was working with an axe, he wouldn’t let me.

All chores left for me were doing laundry, cleaning and cooking; the last always under the watchful eyes of my husband as he made sure that I didn’t come close a knife. If something had to be cut, he was the one to do so. If it was a lot to cut, Jaskier had to help. But I was not allowed to touch a knife, not even my sheathed sword when I tidied the house.

That didn’t change much when Jaskier went to the village to stay at the small inn there. He would, actually, still come to our house every day, helping with everything. He’d come shortly before noon and leave in the afternoon. His agreement with the innkeeper was that the bard would perform for tips and was housed and fed at the inn for free. 

We sometimes came with him in the evening, watched him perform. Even though Geralt wasn’t thrilled about it – he didn’t really like the bards made up songs about the witcher’s feats nor did he like being in a crowd with his pregnant wife (every single person could be a threat). But I liked getting out of the house for some time. Here, where the people accepted us like we were, a half-elf and a witcher, I felt at ease going into town.

The evenings we went to the tavern to watch our friend perform, Geralt would have me sit on his lap, one arm around my waist or shoulder possessively, one hand resting protectively on my ever growing bump. The bigger the bump grew, the more Geralt would growl at onlookers. And once I finished the sixth month, he’d always bring his sword when we went out.

I didn’t agree with it, in my eyes he was exaggerating, but I couldn’t stop him. And neither could he. It was as if it was in his nature, protecting the precious life inside me whatever it may take.


	49. First Kicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, i tried to go full on out with suuper soft and fluffy fluff. Geralt went full on dad!mode. i just love a soft dad witcher <3
> 
> enjoy <3 <3 <3

Evenings out could be stressful, trying to hold him back, exactly the stress he’d wanted me to avoid. Still, I wouldn’t sit sheltered in our house for nine months. That being said, I absolutely loved moments when we were all alone. When it was just the two of us in our house.

Right now was a moment like this. It was a snowy December afternoon, gloomy light streaming through the windows, the soft sound of the falling snow – inaudible for humans – so loud from outside for our ears. From inside our home came no sound except for our steady breathing, the melody of heartbeats and the soft cracking of the fire.

We were sitting right in front of the fireplace on a large, soft rug – or more, I was sitting, leaning against the wall. Geralt had his head in my lap, wanting to be as close as possible to our child. I smiled down at him, absently running my fingers through his hair, braiding a few strands of his silvery-white mane. The silence was only interrupted by a content sigh or hum from time to time.

That was until I felt a short, dull pain in my belly, causing me to gasp. It was gone as quick as it came, but I still flinched a little, mostly surprised. Geralt sat up immediately. Golden eyes wide with worry as tears collected in my green ones. But my tears weren’t of hurt of sadness, or anything negative for that matter. They started spilling when my smile grew bigger.

“What is it?” Geralt’s worried question sounded more like a demand, desperate to know what kind of pain could make me smile this wide.

“They kicked,” I whispered, choked by tears and excitement at the same time.

Geralt’s face lit up, more than I had ever seen it; more than on the day of our wedding, more than when he found out we’d have a child. He ripped the blanket that was covering my belly and legs off my body and shoved up my dress, letting his large, warm hands rest on my belly. By now, it had become so big that even he couldn’t cover all of the stretched skin with his hands.

As if on command, the dull pain hit a second time, Geralt’s lighting up even more, his smile stretching further – he looked so different, I didn’t even recognize him (I’m not complaining though. Happiness looked perfect on him.) – as the kick hit right beneath his palm. The kicking continued for a short while, every single one to Geralt’s palm. My husband was the happiest I’ve ever seen him, smiling wider than I ever imagined he could.

Once the kicking stopped, he peppered my belly with soft kisses, over and over, murmuring gentle love-confessions to both our child and me. I probably don’t even have to mention that I cried happy tears for at least half an hour afterwards. Though, I have to say, the longer the kicking continued, the more they kicked in the same spot, the more it hurt. I wouldn’t tell Geralt, though. He was ecstatic about our child kicking, I didn’t want him to worry about it hurting me. The pain wasn’t that bad, living the way we did, I’ve had worse, I’d deal.

At first, the kicking occurred once a day, usually in the afternoon. Every time, Geralt would have me sit or lie down, his hands firmly against my belly, letting our child kick his palm. The way his face lit up, golden eyes twinkling like freshly polished coins – the ones Jaskier always sang about – made my heart melt every time.

No, I simply couldn’t tell him that with every day our child grew stronger, and with every day it hurt more. The pain also wasn’t extreme, the duration short, but these tiny heels kicking the stretched muscle over and over again, always in the same spot, at was everything but comfortable. 

Still, I smiled every time I felt a kick. It meant our child was healthy. It reminded me of the precious life inside me. Not that I could forget about it, since the bump was everything I’d see when I lowered my gaze to the floor, or since Geralt had to remind me with every step I took, not once leaving my side, his hands – if they weren’t already on my body – close, ready to support me.

Not to mention, he was doing all chores now, not letting me work, claiming I should save my energy for the child. I’d shake my head and laugh. He was exaggerating. But I knew better than to disobey. 

The last time we were in town, he pulled his sword at a man who looked at me too long. Turns out it had been Ana’s husband – who had only seen me once, on the day his wife gave birth to his daughter, with my help – who was trying to figure out where he had seen me. Nothing happened, I made sure of that, and apologized for at least a hundred times. Well, that just as a little side note.

But I knew he’d go great lengths to protect our child and me, so if I kept doing the housework, I shouldn’t be surprised if I ended up tied to the bed. If I wouldn’t rest, he’d force me to. Well, maybe now I’m the one exaggerating.

Jaskier rarely visited now, the way, though short, way too snowy and cold by foot. Geralt didn’t seem to mind the bard’s absence, whereas I on the other hand did. In moments in front of the fireplace, I wished for the soft strumming of his lute. I missed the light-hearted conversation. Not that I couldn’t talk with Geralt – far from it -; but I still wished for our friend to be with us. 

Sometimes I’d hum one of his songs, causing Geralt to shoot me a look that was somehow a mixture of amusement and annoyance. I’d stop after a few verses, laughing at my husband’s irritated face. I’d pay for that though, every single time, in the best way imaginable. Wherever he was when I hummed one of that damned songs that depicted his feats totally wrong, he’d first give that annoyed glare and when I started laughing, he’d charge over to me, grab my face and shut me up, crashing his lips on mine. Once we parted, he’d mutter something about never wanting to hear that song again, and I’d chuckle, grab his face and kiss him again, guiding his hands to lie on my round belly, all annoyance forgotten.

“I still miss him,” I whispered one day. The bard, in these ten years that we knew him, he had become some kind of family – at least to me. I guess I get attached to people pretty quickly when they’re nice to me; first Geralt, the love of my life, then Jaskier, Triss and Ana.

“You know he causes trouble; stress that you don’t need,” Geralt muttered.

“He’s been a great help, a help that we’ll need. Besides, I heard worse things about you before we met, and look where we are now. I gave you a chance. Please, give him one, for me?” I more or less begged him.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” Geralt sighed after a while, in what looked like defeat. “Now, come on, you need sleep,” he said, standing from where we sat in front of the fireplace and picked me up. I squealed a little, clutching onto him.

“You know, I can still walk,” I pointed out. Truth is, I couldn’t, or at least you couldn’t call it walking. I was waddling now, in a few weeks, for or five at the latest.

“No you don’t. Not when you’re this tired. You’ve been falling asleep on me for hours,” Geralt argued. End of discussion. He carried me upstairs and lied me down in bed, stripped me of my clothes and wrapped me in a thick blanket. Tiredly, I watched him take off his own clothes, but before I knew it, my eyes fell shut and I was sucked into the realm of dreams. I was already asleep when Geralt climbed into bed next to me, pulled me close, his warm chest pressed against my back as he rested one arm beneath both our heads, the other hand resting on my belly.

But I didn’t sleep for long. A dull pain zapped through my womb, startling me awake. Another kick. But a strong one, and that at night. Another and another and I tried not to gasp, but our child was strong, definitely taking after their dad. I tried to stay quiet, for minutes, but the kicking continued and it was stronger than usual. I lost the fight against my lungs and vocal chords and gasped loudly as an especially hard kick hit. Geralt shot up immediately, glaring into the darkness to search for whatever had caused me to release the sound. But he didn’t find anything, he couldn’t, for the troublemaker was inside me. he peered down at my balled up frame.

“What is it, love? Are they not letting you sleep?” he asked, worried. Until now, he had no idea that the kicks hurt.

“No,” I gasped as another kick zapped pain through my lower body, rolling onto my back. He took in my face, twisted in pain, not much, but still obvious.

“Does it hurt that bad?” he questioned me worriedly. I nodded.

“Is it always like that?”

“No, this is the worst it’s ever been. But it’s not too bad, I can deal with that. Just… just go back to sleep, minne.”

“No.” His deep voice was gentle, soft, barely a whisper, yet determined. He kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose and then my lips before crawling under the covers, his long hair and stubble tickling and scratching against my stretched skin.

Curious as to what he was up to, I lifted the blanket off his head.

“What are you doing now?” I laughed only for the laugh to turn into a sharp hiss when another kick hit.

“Trying something. Now relax, this is a conversation between our little girl and me.”

Chuckling, I let my head sink back into the pillows, lifting my hand to rest at the nape of his neck, stroking circles against his scalp, tangling my fingers in his hair.

“Little boy. It is definitely a boy. Your son is taking after you, minne,” I hummed. “He’s a fighter… already.”

“I’ve met a lot of female fighters to proof you wrong, my love. One is lying in my bed right now.”

“Oh, this is your bed, now. Interesting. Last time I checked, I conjured the house and all its furniture,” I teased.

“Fine, our bed. Now quiet. I’ve got to talk to our child.”

I did as he asked, waiting curiously for what he had to say to our child.

“Little one,” he started, “Your mummy is a strong woman, stronger than any other I’ve met, you’ll see that too, but you’re really giving her a hard time right now. I know it’s tight in there.” He earned a light, playful slap to his shoulder. “And I understand that you feel like you need to move around,” he continued, smirking at me. I just shook my head and returned to massaging his scalp. “But it is hurting your mummy. I know she seems pain tested, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hurting her. I love her, just as much as I love you, so could you please stop, so you mummy can get some sleep?”

Silent tears were running down my cheeks as I peered down at my husband – the Witcher, known to show no mercy – who had just spoken to our child in the most gentle voice he was able to produce. 

“I love you,” I whispered. He didn’t answer. He waited for our little one to answer him instead. The kicking continued for about ten more seconds before it stopped.

“Did it work?” Geralt asked crawling back up to the pillows, lying down and pulling me close.

“Mh-mhh,” I hummed happily, nuzzling into him as good as I could with the large, swollen belly. We managed, somehow ended up spooning again; warm, protective arms wrapped around my waist and we fell in a deep sleep, not interrupted by our child’s kicks this time.


	50. It's Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After ten chapters we're finally giving birth !!! (Well, in the next chapter, but in this, it's starting)  
> please note that i've done research, but still don't know what giving birth really is like, so i'll write it like i imagine it to be from what i've learned in school and seen in movies...
> 
> enjoy<3

After days of begging, Geralt finally budged.

I woke up to an empty bed, wrapped in a cocoon of thick blankets, the fireplace in our bedroom lit, dipping the dim room in a golden light, its warmth seeping into my bones even from the distance. I turned my head to the side, still wishing to spot my husband next to me, even though I felt his absence before I was even fully awake. On his pillow was a piece of parchment.

“I’ve left to get the bard. I’ll come back as quick as I can. Stay in bed. I love you two.” It read and believe me or not, but I could almost hear Geralt muttering these words while pulling on his boots, and I could almost see him stomp out of the room afterwards. I could even hear the door opening before slamming shut again –

No wait! This wasn’t just my imagination. This was real! He was back already. They were back!

“Stay here, I’ll go, see if she’s awake. Be quiet, she doesn’t get much sleep at the moment,” I heard Geralt grunt at Jaskier from downstairs.

The bard mumbled a ‘yeah, yeah’ in response, audibly setting his bag and lute down on the table. Next thing I heard were tentative footsteps making their way up the stairs. For a man of his size, Geralt could be so quiet (if he wanted to) it amazed me every time. When he reached the top of the stairs, I shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“Nienna? Are you up?” I heard him whisper and I couldn’t supress a smile, my plan failing miserably. Opening my eyes, I smiled sleepily at him, stretching.

“Morning,” I mumbled.

“It’s way past noon,” Geralt chuckled, leaning down to give me a soft kiss, “Morning, my love.”

I slightly shuddered when his skin met mine. Apart from his lips, warm and soft against my own, his face was cold. I yawned once he pulled back, stretching once more, not really wanting to get up, rather wanting to pull Geralt back into bed with me, cuddle with him for at least another two hours.

“They didn’t let you sleep much, hm?” Geralt asked after a while, when I didn’t make any attempt to get up.

I shook my head, sighing. “No, they didn’t.”

It was true, I was rarely able to sleep the night through now. Geralt tried his best to help me, massaging my belly, talking to our little one, asking them to stop so I could sleep. I loved him for it, so I didn’t dare to tell him that through his talking, he only made it worse. Sure, when he asked our child to stop kicking, they did, but once we were back asleep, the kicking would start again, and it would only stop if Geralt talked to them. I tried to do the talking a few times, but they wouldn’t listen to me, only to their dad.

“Do you want to sleep more now?” my husband’s rough voice sounded softly through the room. I didn’t even notice that I had closed my eyes again; I must look very tired.  
Opening them, I shook my head and started to sit up.

“No, the little one is hungry. Plus we have a guest. We should probably just go downstairs. Can you help me up?”

“Hm-hmm.”

Geralt helped me, to only to sit up, but also to get dressed in a thick wool dress and equally thick wool socks, braided my hair and wrapped one of the many blankets on our bed around my shoulders. He was just about to pick me up to carry me downstairs, but I hissed at him, wanting to walk on my own. So he walked down the stairs in front of me, slowly, so one of my hands could hold on to his shoulder, while the other one grabbed the railing.

Once we reached the bottom and Geralt stepped next to me, holding onto me by my waist for support, I was greeted by the bard with a “Nienna! How ar- woah, you got big!”  
Smiling, I put a hand on my large belly – how tiny it looked! “Hello, Jaskier,” was all I brought out before having to put a calming hand on my husband’s chest as he started growling at the bard again. Again, my hand looked tiny compared to the broad chest of the large man at my side.

It took Geralt a while to get used to the bard’s presence, now that he was going to stay for longer than just a few weeks. But after some time, he was glad even that he gave in to my constant begging. Now that he had someone to help him around the house, Geralt had more time to take care of me, because in his eyes, he needed to. And I needed his help more than I’d like to admit. And I noticed that somehow, seeing me depending so much on him, it gave Geralt a sense of pride.

He wouldn’t leave my side, but before he had only been standing close to me, now – and I don’t know if it was because my strength was failing me or if it was because of Jaskier’s presence. He was always touching me; if it was my belly, my arm or my waist, it didn’t matter as long as it let him know I was close to him, safe. 

He’d always be close. Except for when he and Jaskier were working in the kitchen. He’d not let me into the kitchen when the bard was handling a knife, not trusting him to not turn around suddenly, knife in hand, possibly with me standing dangerously close. No, Geralt wouldn’t let me in there.

***

Jaskier had been living with us for two months now. Soon I was due. It was a matter of days now. I spent most of my day either lying in bed, on the big rug downstairs or on Geralt’s lap now, my own legs barely supporting my weight.

Right now, I was lying in Geralt’s arms in our bed, both of us watching the hazy sunrise and listening to the birdsong coming from out of the forest. It was peaceful, both of us smiling tiredly when we gazed at each other, Geralt’s hands laying on my belly, my hands on top of his. We felt our child move about in there, not kicking, just moving. I wished this moment could last forever. I was even beginning to drift back to sleep. 

Well, that was until –

“Ah!” I gasped, fully awake again. A pulling pain rippled through my body, but it was gone as quick as it came.

“Nienna! What is it? Is it- is it happening?” Geralt was out of bed and on his feet within seconds, worry and excitement mixing on his face.

“It’s happening,” I nodded, confirming, smiling wide. Today. Today we would become parents.

“Shit. What do we do? What do you need?” Geralt rambled.

I smiled at him, putting a calming hand on his forearm, pushing myself up from the bed with my other arm, Geralt’s hand behind my back immediately, supporting me.

“First, I need you to stay calm. It’s going to take hours now,” I stated calmly, “We need to go downstairs. I don’t want the water to break here, ruin the bed. I have a bed in my work-kitchen.”

Geralt only nodded and picked me up. I squealed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s happening! Today, we’ll become parents. And then you’ll see, it’s a boy,” I whispered against his neck.

This seemed to relax him a little. He let out a chuckle, “No, you’ll see it’s a girl.”

“Why do you want a daughter so badly?” I wondered, “I always thought you’d prefer a son, whom you can teach everything you know.”

Geralt stopped right at the top of the stairs and looked down at me, sadly somehow. “A girl would be easier to keep out of my life. A witcher’s life I mean. A daughter would be easier to protect, to have her stay here with you, safe. A son… as his father he’d see me as a role model. And I don’t want him to become like me.”

“Oh, minne,” I sighed, “They will be safe no matter what. And I’m sure they’d see you as their role model as well. How could they not? You are an amazing man, a good man, Geralt. And thanks to our friend, you’re famous. I’m sure our little one will look up to you, whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

Geralt shook his head. “My profession is nothing our child should be proud of,” he muttered, remorseful.

“I am,” I piped, “Proud of my father. I didn’t really know him, I barely even remember him, but I am proud of what he did. Of what he was. He saved me, as well as many others. He taught me how to fight, at least a little. And he was the reason I met you. His sword why you decided to stay with me. And I know you will do the same for our child, keep them save, teach them, protect the world they live in. They can and will be just as proud to be your child as I am to be you wife, minne, and they will be right to do so.”

Geralt sighed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my skin.

“You’re right,” I laughed, “You deserve more, but still stuck with me.”

“Hmm, seems like it.”

Then he started moving again, walking down the stairs and into the kitchen where I used to brew my potions – another thing I had to give up during my pregnancy, since a certain witcher was convinced that a few fumes would be bad for me and our child (his potions were basically poison for everyone who wasn’t used to them from a young age on). He set me down on the bed and rushed back up the stairs to get pillows and blankets. His steps though, due to the fact that his mind was completely elsewhere, could probably be heard from inside the forest. I couldn’t supress a small giggle when I heard a door opening and the soft slapping of bare feet on our wooden floor. The bard’s head peeked around the corner; his eyes went wide when he spotted me, cradling my belly.

“It’s happening?” he mumbled and I nodded.

Only seconds later, Jaskier was pushed to the side by Geralt, who came rushing in, packed with pillows. He propped them up behind my back so I was sitting somewhat upright; all while Jaskier stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching the usually so collected witcher rush around.

Geralt threw a blanket over my body, tugging on it until he was satisfied with how it covered me. Again, I put a hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm him, causing him to stop in his tracks, golden eyes darting to mine.

“I need you to stay calm, remember?” I whispered. “There’ll be enough stress later. Just, sit down. Please.”

I smiled when he sighed and started to lower himself onto the edge of the bed. But the smile quickly faded when the next contraction hit.

“Ugh!” I gasped. Geralt immediately straightened.

“You alright?” he asked, worried from one second to the other.

I only nodded and pulled him down again. This time, he stayed seated, his hands on my bump, feeling our little one move. 

Suddenly, as if alarmed by something, he snapped his head around, facing the bard. Jaskier had sat down on one of the stools, still awkward, not really knowing what to do, but too curious to leave.

“Get out,” Geralt growled at him. Hanging his head, knowing better than to argue with Geralt when he was like he was now, Jaskier stood up and shuffled to the door.

“Jas, wait,” I stopped him, two pairs of eyes now focused on me, two mouths speaking the same word at the same time.

“What?”

“Jaskier, you need to stay in here. You’ll be the one to welcome our child to this world,” I explained myself.

Again the same question sounded through the room. Followed by a “Nienna, do you really trust him with that?”

My eyes snapped to my husband’s. His words weren’t meant to hurt the bard; he was genuinely worried.

“Do you trust yourself with that?” I asked in return, remembering the day we visited Ana and her daughter and how Geralt didn’t dare to touch the little girl, afraid he’d hurt her.

Geralt lowered his gaze. I reached out to cup his jaw, gently lifting his head to look at me.

“You will be a great father. You already are. We both will have to get used to having a child, it’s new to me too, you know,” I encouraged him.

Geralt turned his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I really don’t deserve you,” he mumbled against my skin. I laughed and shook my head.

“I-I’ll leave you a moment alone,” Jaskier piped up from his seat.

“No, stay,” I said, “I’ve got to tell you what you have to do when the time comes, don’t I?”


	51. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again, i have no idea what giving birth is really like, this is based on what i've learned in school and on what i've seen on tv. if you have any (constructive!) criticism, let me know, (i will not rewrite this chapter, but i can use it for possible works in the future).
> 
> as always: thank you for reading <3 and enjoy <3<3

I told Jaskier what he had to do, how he’d have to support the child’s body, and that he please, by every god there is, didn’t freak out.

“I still don’t understand why I’m the one who has to do that,” Jaskier mumbled once I finished explaining.

I chuckled at him. “You see, I will be grabbing onto something, probably the hands of whoever is not guiding the child out, and I will clench hard. I could probably break your hand. You tell me what’s worse.”

“Not my hands! I need them. My lute…”

“See?”

“And what about my hands?” Geralt mumbled jokingly.

“You know I couldn’t break them if I wanted to, minne. I’m not that strong,” I smiled at him.

Hours passed, the time between the contractions becoming shorter, but the child wouldn’t seem to come. Geralt had sent Jaskier to the kitchen, to prepare some food, he claimed, but worry was etching his face now. 

And I too started to worry. I was in pain, the contractions now hitting every ten minutes and lasting a few seconds, but I didn’t feel myself open. I was sweating and in pain.

Once the bard had left the room, Geralt was hovering above my face, closer than only a few minutes ago, cradling my sweat and tear drenched cheeks. I could see his eyes mirror my pain, and I also spotted guilt; he thought he was responsible for the state I was in, and kind of he was, still he wasn’t the one to blame.

“How bad is it?” he rasped, “And don’t play strong, my love. Tell me how I can help you.”

“It hurts,” I tried to keep my voice steady, “It hurts bad. Maybe we can try walking around a little. My mother said it would help opening the womb. Can you help me up?”  
Geralt hesitated as I held my arms out for him to help me to my feet.

“Are you sure? Your legs can barely support your weight…”

“Yes, I’m sure, Geralt. If… if we don’t get me to open then…” I didn’t dare to finish the sentence. I banished the thought as quick as it came. No! I would not die during childbirth!

But Geralt understood what I meant. He grabbed me by my upper arms and pulled me up, guiding me to my feet and supporting me as I took one step tentative forward. I felt how the walking helped. I felt myself open slowly. Ten minutes we walked up and down the room while Jaskier watched, also worried now. We walked until my legs gave out underneath my body, but Geralt’s hold on me was strong enough to keep me upright. 

Quickly, he lifted me up to set me down on the bed again, but I stopped him when I felt something drip out of me.

“M-my water broke,” I mumbled.

“Fuck!” Geralt took a rushed step towards the bed and set me down carefully. “What are we going to do now?”

“There’s not much you can do,” I pressed out through another contraction, “Oh, Great Melitele, please!”

At my words, Geralt shot up. “Melitele! That’s it!” he turned to Jaskier. “Watch her. If the child comes, do what she told you to do,” he commanded, rushing out of the kitchen to the main room.

“Wait! What are you doing?” I shouted after him.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you die. I’ll go get Nenneke, she’ll help,” he answered and the whooshing sound of a portal was heard, then the sound of my husband’s heavy boots on the wooden floor and then it was quiet.

Another contraction rippled through my body and I hissed, new tears spilling from my eyes and running down my cheeks. Jaskier jumped to my side, grabbing my hand in a reassuring hold.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, but I could hear in his voice how scared he was. I didn’t blame him.

“Jaskier,” I rasped, “I’m scared,” I confessed what I’ve been too afraid to tell my husband.

“Shh, no, Nienna. You’ll get through this. You’re strong. Your child needs you to stay strong now. Geralt needs you. I need you,” my friend encouraged me, but I struggled to believe him.

Geralt had been convinced that having a child was either impossible or too dangerous for us. And I’m starting to think he was right back then. We were both more than happy when we discovered there was a child growing inside me. But now, that it could be the death of the child and me… maybe he had been right.

No! It’ll be alright. Neither of us would be dying today. We’d stand through it. I’ve endured worse things in my life. I won’t die giving birth to my child!

I repeated that in my head over and over. Minutes feeling like hours, waiting anxiously for Geralt to return.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the whooshing of the portal, followed by the sound of two pair of feet rushing into the room. Weakly, I opened my eyes; Jaskier stopped dabbing the sweat off my face with a by now damp rag.

I was relieved when I spotted my husband following the high priestess. Jaskier stepped back from the bed, clearing the space for Nenneke to get to work. The old woman smiled down at me, putting a hand on my cheek.

“Hello, dear,” she said, her voice – as well as her presence – calming me instantly. I gave in to the urge to close my eyes, knowing that I was in good hands now. “When did it start?” she asked, her eyes still on me, but she was talking to Geralt.

“Shortly after sunrise,” my husband answered, worry lacing his voice; but I noticed that he, too, was calmer, now that Nenneke was here.

“Dear, will you prop up your legs for me?” the priestess asked, her voice professional and calming. I did as she asked. She lifted the blanket off my legs and pushed Geralt’s shirt that I was wearing further up. Nenneke inspected my opening and nodded to herself.

“Your cervix has opened, but not wide enough,” she only confirmed what I already knew, “I brought some herbs that’ll help you relax for it to open more.” Directed at Jaskier she added, “I’ll need hot water, lots of it. And towels, clean ones.”

The bard nodded and left the room. Geralt took his place at my side, wiping the sweaty hair out of my forehead. 

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered while Nenneke took one of my kettles and started mixing the herbs. Not long after, Jaskier came back with the pieces of fabric and a bucket of streaming water. Priestess prepared the potion and had me drink a cup of it. My body instantly relaxed, the pain numbed a little. Another contraction rippled through me as the old woman returned to look at my mound. Again, she nodded.

“You’re opening more, shouldn’t take long now. The herbs numb the pain. I would advise you to try and sleep a little.”

“Hm-hmm,” I hummed, my eyes droopy. Resting my head against the pillows, I noticed how straining the day had been until now. I fell asleep.

But I didn’t sleep for long. The contractions, though numbed, became stronger, longer and the time between them shorter. I woke up to Geralt cradling my face in his bag hands, thumbs caressing my cheeks.

“Not long now,” he whispered, “Everything will be fine.”

I smiled at him, hissing when the next contraction hit.

Geralt grabbed my hands and held them tight. Only a few minutes later, the next contraction hit and I clenched my hands in my husband’s.

“Ng-ah!”

Nenneke was back to my side in an instant.

“Breathe, dear, breathe,” she soothed while getting in place to welcome our child to this world.

Another contraction. And only a minute later, another, longer this time.

“Dear, it’s happening. When the next contraction hits, I need you to push. And breathe.”

I took a laboured breath, clenching Geralt’s hands. And then the next wave hit. I screamed, pushing the child out of me. I could feel the blood leaving my fingers from how hard I was clenching Geralt’s hand, but he didn’t even flinch. No, he whispered to me encouragingly, telling me how great I was doing.

The contraction stopped and I panted heavily, waiting for the next one to hit. And a few seconds later, it did.

“Push!” Nenneke reminded, and I did, screaming yet again, feeling the child’s head push through my opening.

“Good, very good,” Nenneke cooed, “Just like that next time and then were done. Jaskier, I need the water.”

I couldn’t see the bard’s reaction. I couldn’t see anything. I clamped my eyes closed, clenching my hands tight, oh so tight, as I pushed with the last contraction. My own screaming was interrupted by that of our child and I stopped immediately, tears springing to my eyes. I loosened the grip of my hands, my eyes shifting to the little squirming thing in Nenneke’s arm. 

“Congratulations, a healthy little boy,” she cooed. “Geralt, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?”

Stunned at the little being in the priestess’ arms, Geralt fell mute, nodding slowly as he got up. With droopy eyes, I watched Nenneke tie the cord and Geralt cut it, and when the old woman turned to bathe our child, my head fell back against the pillows, eyes closing. My breathing slowed. Geralt noticed and rushed back to my side, once again cradling my face. 

“My love? Nienna!” he shouted, “What is happening?”

I heard Nenneke’s calm voice as if it was far away as my eyes fell closed, “She’s exhausted. It’s normal, Geralt. Let her sleep.”


	52. The Wolf And His Pup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, 'crevan' is Elder speech for 'fox' if you couldn't tell from the context.  
> i'm soft for dad!geralt, don't touch me!!
> 
> enjoy <3

Hours later, I woke up in our bedroom, Geralt sitting on a chair next to the bed, my tiny hand wrapped in his large ones.

“Ah, there she is,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I smiled, still weak and tired, but I needed to see him, I had to see our son. I turned my head to the side, eyeing the crib. It was empty. My eyes went wide and shot to Geralt, suddenly worried. No, more than worried. Terrified.

Geralt chuckled and nodded towards the opposite side of the room, where the table was. I let out a sigh of relief when I spotted a small bundle in the arms of the bard. Jaskier was cooing at the child, gently rocking him in his arms. He was so focused on the little boy that he didn’t even notice Geralt and me staring at him. Only when our child started crying, he tore his eyes off the little bundle, searching the room for help.

“He’s probably hungry,” I murmured, scooting up in bed so I was sitting comfortably against the headboard and reaching my arms out. Jaskier came over and carefully laid the little boy into my arms. Once I felt the weight of this little being in my arms, tears welled up in my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away, supporting my son with one arm, the free hand pulling down the shoulder of my dress – somebody, probably Geralt, had changed my clothes. 

Geralt’s hand came up to support my hold on our son, but he let it hover over mine, not sure if he should do it, afraid to put too much pressure into his touch. When he realized why I pulled my dress down, though, he let his hand drop, shifting in his seat to shield me from Jaskier’s view.

I freed my breast and positioned our child so he could suck on it, milk trickling out already. Once his mouth found my nipple, he drank hungrily. I couldn’t help but smile down at my little son.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” Jaskier spoke up, “Are you guys hungry? I could make some dinner.”

I smiled, my body still shielded from his view by Geralt’s broad one, but I was sure he could hear the smile in my voice, “Thank you, Jaskier. That’d be wonderful. Just please, don’t burn the house down.”

“You know me, Nienna,” the bard replied.

“That’s why I asked,” I chuckled. I heard quiet laughter and footsteps walking towards and down the stairs. Once the bard was gone and Geralt didn’t have to defend my honour, he slumped back into the chair, gazing lovingly at our child and me.

“Nenneke is already at the temple again?” I asked.

Geralt nodded. “Yeah, I brought her back after helping her clean you up.”

I frowned, “Too bad. I wish I could have thanked her.”

“Oh, no. I already did. More than she wanted to hear.”

I nodded, humming, gazing down at the tiny bundle in my arms. He was still drinking, a small drop of mild spilling from the corner of his mouth. I wiped it away gently with my thumb, then continued to caress his cheek.

“I still can’t believe you used a portal,” I chuckled after a while, “I thought you were terrified of them.”

“Not terrified,” Geralt corrected, grumbling, “I hate them, but I use them if necessary. And having to watch my son and wife die, if I don’t get the one person who could save them, seems very necessary to me.”

“Alright,” I chuckled, lifting the hand that was caressing our son’s cheek in surrender. Oh, right!

“And…” I teased, “What did I tell you? We have a son.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geralt sighed, feigning defeat, “You were right. Pity, I would have loved to scare off any boy who came to close to our daughter,” he chuckled.

“I know you would have,” I joined in to his chuckle. 

A quiet cooing made my eyes snap back down to our son. He had finished drinking.

“Minne, could you grab that rag and put it over my shoulder?”

With a hum, Geralt did, as I lifted our son so I could burp him. I rocked him up and down, patting his small back gently, until… a little bit of the milk spilled onto the rag.

“Good boy,” I cooed, moving him to lay in my arms again while Geralt put the rag away.

“Minne,” I whispered as two big, curious eyes stared up at me.

“Yes, my love,” my husband murmured as he made his way back to the bed.

“He-he has… he has your eyes,” I breathed, gazing down lovingly at the small person in my arms.

“What?!” Geralt rushed back to my side, eyeing our son’s face.

“How Nenneke described them to me,” I added, “Before your transformation. He really looks a lot like you.”

I let my finger run gently through the dark reddish brown curls, big eyes – blue like the sea on a calm day, with a speck of brown in one – staring back up at me, a hint of a smile on his little face.

“What do you think of ‘Crevan’ for his name?” I asked the little boy’s father, gazing at him for a moment before returning my eyes to our son.  
“Fox? Hmm. Why not? I like it. It suits him.”

“Mhh, my White Wolf and little Fox,” I hummed, turning to kiss Geralt’s neck – the only spot I could reach from how I was sitting. “Come on, come into bed with us.”  
“You sure?”  
“Hm-hmm.”  
Geralt kicked off his boots, walked around the bed, climbing in on his side, and scooted close to me, so close that I could lean against his chest, his arm around my shoulder, finally daring to support my arm that held our son, Crevan. 

“You did great today,” he murmured into my ear, his deep voice rumbling through me, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, minne,” I hummed in response, “if it hadn’t been for you, we could have…” I trailed off.

“But you didn’t. You’re both well; you and our little Crevan are healthy, and that’s all that matters. I love you; the two of you.” He planted a lingering kiss to my temple.

“Mhh, I love you, too, minne. You two are my world, my life,” I hummed, leaning my head back against my husband’s shoulder, gazing up at the gorgeous man who was the father of our gorgeous son.

With a content sigh, I closed my eyes, the exhaustion of today catching up with me again as I drifted off into sleep.


	53. Our Little Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH I'M SOFT; DON'T TOUCH ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (sry for that)
> 
> aaaanywayyyy...  
> enjoy this softness, hope y'all like it (leave a nice comment, cos lockdown has me starving for attention) <3<3<3<3

My nap didn’t last long. Only about fifteen minutes later, Jaskier came upstairs with steaming pot. The smell was enough to make my mouth water and stomach rumble, and I realized that I hadn’t eaten much today with everything going on. I put little sleeping Crevan into his crib, covering him with his blanket. I couldn’t help but stare and smile down at the little person sleeping peacefully.

On wobbly legs, I got up, Geralt at my side immediately, supporting me as we made our way over to the table.

“Mhh, Jaskier, that smells amazing,” I hummed when Geralt helped me to sit down. 

During the time he stayed with us, the bard had done most of the cooking, and after the first few attempts that ended in pots crusted in burned remainders of whatever Jaskier was trying to cook, the three of us discovered that he was actually a natural. We ate in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the soft cooing coming from the sleeping child.

“Sooo,” Jaskier started after a while, “Have you decided for a name yet?”

Smiling, I turned to my husband. 

“Go on,” he whispered, nodding.

“Crevan,” I beamed, “Our little fox.”

“Please tell me I’m allowed to sing songs about him,” the bard begged. Next to me, Geralt tensed up. I spoke up before he could snap.

“When he’s older, Jaskier, and can decide if he’s okay with; for himself.” My soft voice was laced with a stern undertone.

“I wasn’t going to…” he stopped when I raised my eyebrow sceptically. “Okay, okay. But just imagine: the ballade of the White Wolf and his pup!”

“No, Jaskier!” Geralt burst, “He’s ours, and I want to keep it that way for as long as I can!”

His outburst woke our son, causing Crevan to start crying. I jumped up from my chair and rushed over to his crib, lifting the tiny bundle in my arms and rocking him gently.

“Shh, cáelm, en’ca minne (translation: “calm/ quiet, darling”),” I cooed in Elder speech, repeating as I went back to the table, sitting down.

“If people find out what he is,” Geralt continued in a harsh whisper, “It could put him and Nienna in danger, and I can’t let that happen.”

“You know I can defend myself,” I reminded my husband.

“I still don’t want to even think of the possibility that you have to do that.”

I sighed, shifting Crevan in my arms so I was holding him in one arm while the now free hand came up to cup Geralt’s jaw.

“I know, minne. But there are things that are even out of your control.”

“I just want to keep the two of you safe,” Geralt muttered, planting a firm kiss to my forehead.

“And this is my cue to leave,” Jaskier reminded us of his presence, collecting the bowls, spoons and the pot off the table and starting towards the stairs.

“Jaskier, wait,” I whisper-shouted after him. He stopped and turned, looking at me expectantly. “Thank you… for everything. I don’t know how we would have managed without you. Crevan can be proud to have his uncle Jas,” I smiled at the now stunned bard.

“Uncle Jas,” he repeated softly as he started down the stairs.

Geralt turned to me, slightly annoyed. “We didn’t talk about this.”

“I know,” I shrugged, gently rocking our son up and down in my arms, gazing down at these big, beautiful, blue eyes, “But I knew you would have never agreed to it.”

“And that for a reason!”

“Jaskier is way more mature than you give him credit for. Hasn’t he helped us, especially you, a lot in the past? And I’m not only talking about the last six months.”

“He has,” Geralt mumbled, lowering his head in defeat.

A strand of his hair fell over his shoulder, dangling above Crevan’s tummy. Excitedly, our little fox stuck his tiny hand out, trying to grab his father’s hair but not quite reaching it. Upset, he started sobbing. I chuckled, rocking him up and down.

“Let you son grab his daddy’s hair, minne,” I chuckled at Geralt. Instead of doing so, Geralt tucked the fallen strand back behind his ear and reached behind my back, retrieving a strand of my hair from my braid instead.

“I think mummy’s hair would be better for that,” he returned my chuckle, letting my hair dangle right in front of our son’s tiny fist for him to grab. When the small hand closed around the strand, Geralt leaned in to whisper into my ear. His hot breath fanned over my ear and neck.

“You’re the only person who gets to tug on my hair,” he murmured darkly, a glint in his eyes when my face whipped around to look at him. I couldn’t hide a small blush.

“Geralt!” I whisper-shouted at him, feigning shock, “I literally just gave birth to our child, and this is all you can think of?!”

Geralt let out a throaty laugh. “I’m just kidding, my love.” And with a smirk he added, “Still, I mean it.”

I shook my head, laughing. A quiet coo brought our attention back to the small child in my arms. Crevan was peering up at us, his big, blue eyes curious.

“Better you don’t understand what your daddy meant by that,” I smiled down at our son.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you everything you need to know to make the girls fall for you.”

“I think he’ll manage on his own. Look at him; he’s gorgeous. He’ll grow up handsome, just like his daddy.”

Geralt smiled down at our little one. If he could cry, I know that right now, he would.

“I still can’t believe you made this tiny person,” he whispered.

“We did that. Really, what do they teach you in Kaer Morhen that you don’t know that it takes two to make a child,” I laughed.

“Well… since witchers are not supposed to have children, we are mostly taught in identifying and killing monsters, lifting curses, fighting… you know, that kind of stuff,” Geralt shrugged.

I knew he meant it more or less as a joke, but I couldn’t help the pang of sadness in my chest when I was once again reminded that my husband, the love of my life, didn’t really have a childhood.

“How much will he be like you?” I mumbled.

“I don’t know. I can sense magic on him.”

I nodded. I felt it too. During the whole pregnancy if I was completely honest. I even think it was the magic inside Crevan that drained my strength, left me weak and depending on others. Ana’s pregnancy with her daughter wasn’t as draining. Sure, she too had been exhausted, but her legs had supported her weight for the whole nine months, she never needed to be carried around.

“I just don’t know how strong he will be.”

“What are we going to do if the Brotherhood shows up?” I asked, worried. I hadn’t heard much about the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, but what I’ve heard – apart of what Triss told me – was bad. Real bad. And I’ve heard that if they want to recruit a person, they will not stop until they have them.

“We’ll tell them to fuck off.”

I was about to nod, but –

“You just cursed around our child!” I gasped.

He looked at me, confused. “I can’t do that now?”

“No! He’ll pick them up. And he’s a child, he shouldn’t know bad words!”

“I don’t care if he knows ‘bad words’. If he doesn’t get them from us, he’ll learn them somewhere else.”

“You say this now, but just wait until he tells you to fuck off one day.”

Geralt looked down Crevan, his tiny fist still wrapped around my hair as his big eyes stared up at his father.

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would, if that was a word we'd say around him once he started learning to speak,” I said, cocking my eyebrow.

“Son, just so that one thing is clear: you will neither tell your mother nor me to fuck off, understood?” Crevan cooed. “Just because I talk like that does not mean you can talk like that.” Another coo. “Good.”

I smiled down at our son. “Don’t listen to him,” I whispered, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t curse around you, little fox.” Another coo and then his eyes grew droopy. “Are you tired, en’ca minne? Come on, let’s get you in bed, hm?”

I stood up and walked around the bed, putting Crevan down in his crib. He was still holding on to my hair and I had a hard time freeing it from his grip.

“Let go, sweetie. Mummy will be right beside you, but you have to let go,” I pleaded with him, my fingers trying to gently loosen his grip.

“You’re so good at this,” Geralt mumbled from across the room.

“Well, I had a great teacher,” I chuckled, referring to Ana, “and her daughter loves gripping hair, too, so… Come on sweetie, let go of mummy.”

But he didn’t let go. Geralt came up behind me, his chest against my back as he leaned down to peer at our son.

“Do as your mummy says, little one, hmm?” his rough whisper so soft. It was the exact same voice he had used when he talked to Crevan when he was still inside me. And miraculously, he let go. I quickly pulled the strand away from him, throwing it over my shoulder.

“Good boy,” I cooed, “But you also need to listen to mummy. She’s the one who feeds you. Don’t mess with me,” I joked.

Tired eyes stared up at us, droopy, but they wouldn’t close.

“Don’t worry, little fox, mommy and daddy are right here,” Geralt whispered and my heart melted at his words.

“And daddy will protect you, always. Believe me, he’s done it before, for you and for me,” added, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist.

“Maybe you should just let him sleep,” Geralt mumbled against my hair.

“I just want him to know we’re here,” I sighed, but nodded, leaning back against my witcher before staking a step towards the bed. 

As soon as we disappeared from our son’s view, we were called back with a soft whine. Quickly, I stepped back towards the crib, lifting Crevan into my arms and rocking him gently.

“Shh, we’re here. Mummy and daddy are here,” I cooed. “Go to bed, seems like we have to put him in his crib after he fell asleep,” I chuckled at Geralt.

My husband nodded and took off his boots and shirt, lying down, or more, sitting up against the headboard, his arms an open invitation for me to join him. An invitation I took more than gladly. Supporting Crevan with one arm, I climbed into bed, cuddling against my husband. Geralt wrapped his arms around mine, holding them while they held our son. I let my head fall against Geralt’s shoulder, sighing happily.

“Is this how you imagined it to be?” Geralt asked after a while.

“Mhhh, so much better, but…”

“But what?”

“Something is still missing.”

“And what would that be?”

I lifted my head, smiling at Geralt, “Caen me a’baethe? (translation: “Give me a kiss?”)”

Geralt smirked, lowering his head. Right before his lips captured mine, he muttered, “How could I say no to this?”

The kiss was sweet, both of us pouring all our love into it, our lips dancing together.

“Now it’s perfect,” I mumbled against his lips, before gazing down at our son, now peacefully sleeping in our arms. “Do you want to hold him?”

But Geralt shook his head. “I don’t want to wake him,” he explained quickly in a hushed tone and I nodded, shifting in bed to put our son in his crib, covering him up with his little blanket.

“Goodnight, my little fox,” I whispered, “Mummy and daddy love you so much. More than you could ever know.”

“Come here, ‘mummy’,” Geralt chuckled. I turned my head to find him already lying down, again holding his arms out. And again I gladly took his invitation, snuggling close into his arms, letting his calm breath and slow heartbeat lull me into sleep while his hand caressed my back.

It really was perfect.


	54. First Day With The Little Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more fluff <3<3<3<3<3<3  
> hope you like this as much as i loved writing this chapter. SOFT DAD!GERALT HOLDING HIS BABY FOR THE FIRST TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> ENJOY <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 (WHY AM I SCREAMING????)
> 
> Also, just when i thought i could make jaskier a decent cook in my story, joey has to post this choatic video of him baking!?!?! like 'excuse you mister, you're messing up my story!!' (just kidding)

A piercing cry woke us up the next morning. Groaning, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, scooting over to Crevan’s crib. The tiny being was wailing loudly, waving his little arms around.

“Shh,” I cooed down at him, “Mummy’s here, sweetie. Are you hungry? Do you want breakfast?”

I picked our little one up and returned to bed, Geralt already sitting against the headboard, a love-drunken look on his face. He held out his arms and I leaned against him, freeing my breast from my dress and positioning Crevan so he could drink. He immediately latched on and started sucking greedily.

“Someone really is hungry,” I chuckled, letting my head fall back against my husband’s shoulder. “Thank you for making me the happiest woman on the Continent, minne. I love you.”

Before Geralt could reply, rushed footsteps thundered up the stairs. Before he could even come into view, I called out, “Good morning, Jaskier!”

Geralt tensed up next to me, about to cover up my chest with the blanket but I shook my head at him slightly, shrugging it off; the most – ahem – important parts where covered by our son and hell, yesterday Geralt had been willing to let Jaskier be our midwife. 

The bard entered the bedroom, stumbling over his words, “Is… is he… okay?”

I nodded, smiling down at Crevan.

“But… but the crying?”

I chuckled. “They cry when they’re hungry, or tired, or want something. They can’t really tell you what they want, you know? So they just scream.”

For a moment, the three of us just watched the tiny being in my arms. Again, a little drop of milk ran down Crevan’s cheek, and I wiped it away, continuing to caress his little face.  
“He’s really just the cutest,” Jaskier broke the silence after a while.

“He takes after his father,” I hummed, nodding.

“Uhm? I wouldn’t describe Geralt as ‘cute’…”

I sighed, “But he was a child once. And Crevan already looks a lot like his father.”

I turned and planted a kiss to my husband’s jaw. Geralt was staring at the bard intently, paying close attention that Jaskier’s gaze didn’t linger on places that it shouldn’t. Crevan finished drinking and I shifted him in my arms, so his head was on the level of my collar bone.

“Minne, the rag,” I whispered. Jaskier stepped in before Geralt could, fishing the rag from the edge of the laundry basket and placed it over my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I smiled at him.

“It’s nothing,” the bard shrugged, “I’ll, uh, be downstairs… making breakfast. Will the two of you come to the kitchen or…?”

Before I could say anything, Geralt beat me to it. 

“Nienna’s on bed rest, for at least a week,” Geralt said in a tone that sounded like he was reminding Jaskier of something, but I never heard anything about me being on bed rest. Sure, I knew that a woman should rest after giving birth, but who had told the men that? Then it came to me… Nenneke. I had only seen her so briefly, and my brain was all over the place…

I shrugged it off and stared rocking Crevan up and down, patting his back until he burped.

“Good boy,” I cooed, wiping his little face with a clean corner of the now soiled piece of fabric. His little hand reached for a loose strand of my hair dangling close to his face.

“Oh, no. you don’t,” I chuckled, snatching the hair from him before he could clutch it in his tiny fist. As I had already expected, Crevan started sobbing and I held my index finger close to his little hand, allowing him to hold it instead. And he did, his sobbing ceasing immediately and I smiled at how tiny his hands really were – my hands were already small!  
I know, I know, he is a small child, of course, his hands are tiny, but I still couldn’t believe he was finally here. Everything about him was beautiful and pure and my heart clenched with joy every second I looked at him. He was the best thing that happened to me, after his father, and I loved both of them with all my heart.

A tear slipped from my eye, but Geralt kissed it away before it could fall and I let out a choked laugh.

“I love you two so, so much,” I whispered, smiling down at our son, who was still clutching the tip of my finger in his tiny fist, “You are my life,” I cooed.

I hadn’t even noticed that Jaskier was gone until Geralt shifted and stood up, causing me to tear my gaze away from the little boy in my arms.

“Where are you going,” I whined slightly, missing his warmth and the touch of the most important man in my life.

“I have to feed the animals,” he soothed, “They haven’t had anything for almost two days now. I’ll come back in right when I’m done, I promise.”

“But then you’re cold,” I complained.

“Just another reason to snuggle back into bed with the two of you, my love.”

With a smirk, he pulled on his boots.

“That’s not what I meant,” I huffed, “You’ll make us cold.”

A throaty laugh as he tucked his tunic into his trousers.

“Could it be that you’re still tired, my love? You’re being a little cranky.”

“I pushed this little thing-” I lifted my arms a little, “-out of my body not even a day ago. Of course I’m tired.”

Another laugh, “I know,” he came back over and kissed my temple, “I’m not blaming you. I’ve seen you yesterday and I can’t imagine what it must have felt like, my love. But I know that you’re strong, you’ve just reminded me yesterday, and I’m proud of you, Nienna, so proud of you and our little fox. And I love the two of you more than anything.”

In the back of my tired mind, a memory sparked and I smirked. “More than Roach?” I teased.

Oh-uh. Geralt stepped up to the bed, hovering right in front of me, our noses almost touching. He stared me down menacingly as I felt his warmth radiate off his body. His breath fanned over my face as he growled.

“Know your fucking place, woman.”

I would have hit him, if it weren’t for the child in my arms and the playful smirk on his lips, mirrored by his stunning, golden eyes.

“Arse,” I chuckled, but was shut up with an almost violent kiss.

“The three of you are equal,” Geralt muttered teasingly once he pulled away. He pulled back further, standing up straight.

“Can you put him back in his crib, so I can sleep a little more?” I asked, peering up at my husband. Insecurity flashed over his face for a split second, but then he leaned down, holding out his arms tentatively. I put Crevan in his father’s arms, Geralt adapting to the situation immediately, cradling his son in his arms. Our little fox looked so tiny in the witcher’s large arms and I couldn’t help the next tear to slip.

“You’ll be the best father,” I choked out, but Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes off the little being in his arms, his face love-drunk and softer than I had ever seen it before. 

He stood there for a while, just holding our son, gazing down at him, and I could see that Geralt – deep down – regretted not doing this earlier. But eventually, he lowered quietly cooing Crevan down in his crib, covering him up with his tiny blanket.

“I love you,” I whispered for the what felt like hundredth time today. Geralt stood there for a short moment, smiling down at Crevan, before leaning over to give me a quick kiss to the forehead, whispering a “Sleep now, my love,” and marching out of the room, grabbing his leather jerkin on his way out.

Lowering myself back down so my head lay on the pillows, I listened to his footsteps and the clatter coming from the kitchen. Smiling, I shut my eyes.

We were a weird little family – yes, Jaskier included – but it was so much more than the little girl from Dol Blathanna ever imagined.

Still exhausted from the previous day, but filled with immense joy, I fell asleep.


	55. It Caught Up With Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long one.  
> i took this from my other book and edited this a lot, since it is mainly dialogue. if there is still anything that doesn't fit in with this story, tell me, i'll probably edit then. i hope i got everything though, i proofread three times.
> 
> love y'all, my lovely readers <3<3<3 and i hope you enjoy reading just as much as i enjoy writing <3<3<3

Over the course of the next six months, we watched out little one grow. With every passing day, Crevan became more like his father, and this amplified when it was warm enough to go outside with him. Our son loved watching our animals – so far only from a safe distance – and, just like his father, he loved the horses.

In late spring, we decided it was time to introduce the little fox to them. Geralt was more than excited to show his beloved son to his beloved horse, I was too. Roach, Shadow and Daisy had been so protective of me during the time I was still allowed to walk around freely – just kidding, later I really depended on my husband. They were not stupid and tried to support me in their own special way.

The only person nervous about introducing Crevan to the horses was Jaskier. The bard had stayed with us for about a year now, helping and entertaining us – well, me. Geralt still tended to leave the room, annoyed, whenever Jaskier picked up his lute, but I knew that once he was out of our sight, he tapped his toes along to whatever song Jaskier was playing. Crevan loved his Uncle Jas’ music, happily cooing when the bard sung (I made sure he was singing appropriate songs around my son!).

So… back to Jaskier being the only one nervous about Crevan meeting the horses. As I mentioned before, our horses – and donkey – aren’t stupid, and they know whom we like and whom we don’t like. Especially Roach. Having spent decades with Geralt, she knew that – even if Geralt would never admit it – her rider liked to bicker with the bard, and, being the sassy girl she is, Roach had developed a liking in trying to bite the bard – never hard, mostly nibbling – but still… the bard was now wary of the mare. And now he was nervous about her doing the same to his ‘nephew’.

On our way out the door, Jaskier was complaining loudly, whining that ‘those stupid horses might bite Crevan’s tiny hand off!’ But we didn’t really listen to him, knowing our horses way better than the bard ever could. We didn’t worry.

Geralt carried Crevan proudly towards the paddock. After he had found the courage to touch our son, leaving the fear of accidently hurting him behind, he would have him in his arms almost all of the time. The only times when he didn’t, was when we were sleeping or when I was feeding our little fox. Even though, sometimes he would hold him even then, having me sit in his lap, both of us cradling our son in our arms.

We reached the paddock, Jaskier keeping a distance between himself and the horses. Shaking my head, laughing, I followed Geralt though the gate, Roach, Shadow and Daisy trotting towards us, curious, yet tentative as to what their owner was holding in his arms – it didn’t look like food…

Roach, being the alpha mare, took the lead, sniffing carefully at the bundle in Geralt’s arms.

“Hey my girl,” he greeted the mare in a rough mutter. She blew her nose in response – careful not to breathe on Crevan – and I laughed, turning to my own horse, who was currently nudging at my now flat belly.

“He’s there,” I whispered to her, pointing at the little being in my husband’s arms. Slowly, Shadow trotted over to join Roach, sniffing at Crevan, who was cooing excitedly. He had seen these horses before, but never from this close.

“Meet Crevan,” Geralt announced proudly, watching the mares continuing to sniff our son, whinnying and grunting quietly with excitement. But after a few minutes, it became too much for Crevan, and he started crying.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” I cooed, taking him from Geralt’s arms, who only let go reluctantly. I took a few steps towards the fence, bringing a little distance between us and the horses, rocking Crevan up and down. At the fence, I turned sideways, holding Crevan on my hip, so both of us could see Geralt still stroking Roach’s mane.

“See this brown horse,” I asked my son, not expecting an answer, “That’s Roach. Mummy’s biggest rival,” I chuckled, loud enough for my husband to hear; it was mostly directed at him, after all.

“Don’t listen to your mummy, son,” Geralt chuckled in return, not even turning to face us, “Roach is not your mummy’s rival, she’s your daddy’s best friend.”

Behind us, I could hear Jaskier gasping, offended, and I snorted. Geralt gave me a quick side-glance, smirking and I burst out laughing, Crevan gazing up at me, confused and curious.

“You wouldn’t understand, little fox,” I cooed, making my way back out through the gate.

The four of us returned inside and we all went to the kitchen. Geralt as Jaskier sat at the table, my husband bouncing our son on his knee, while I cooked.

***

But, it came as it had to come: Geralt’s life caught up with us. After almost a year of letting his witcher-duties rest, it was time to pick up his swords again: word reached us of a selkiemore in Cintra, which was devouring one settlement after the other that lay at the shore of a lake. They called for Geralt, desperate.

At the mention of Cintra, though, Jaskier’s eyes lit up, and I knew why… the Princess of Cintra would turn fifteen in a few weeks now. The bard pressed Geralt to go slay the selkiemore, but he didn’t need to, we needed the coin, and these people needed a witcher. My husband wanted me to stay behind with Crevan, but I wouldn’t be able to deal with our house, child and animals all on my own. Instead, we asked Ana’s husband, who was going to stay home for a while, to feed the animals once a day. He agreed, but rejected our offer of payment.

“Any friend of my wife is a friend of mine,” he had said, “And I will not take payment from the woman who helped delivering my daughter.”

So, we made our way to Cintra. Weirdly enough, winter was still lingering, at least in the mountains – where we were headed – still unusual for the south. It was cold and I wrapped my thick woollen cloak closer around Crevan, whispering an Elder chant to keep the warmth underneath the dense fabric.

When we arrived at the lake after about a week, the remaining townsfolk welcomed Geralt happily, telling him everything that had happened – not that he cared, he was here for the coin, or so he claimed. Just shortly before we had arrived, the selkiemore had struck again, another village just … gone. It was too dangerous to stay here; to wait close by while Geralt fought the beast, we all knew that.

So, he sent us away, up the hill, to a tavern. This was where we were currently staying, Jaskier and I, Crevan sitting in my lap, wrapped in warm clothing, staring curiously at the new faces he spotted in the tavern. I know, I know, a tavern isn’t exactly a place for a small child, but what other choice did I have?

All of us were desperately waiting for the witcher to return, knots forming in my stomach. He had never before encountered a selkiemore. Heard about it, sure; but never seen, let alone slayed one.

I heard hasty footsteps from outside and for a second, I relaxed, thinking it was my husband, but I knew the sound of his steps just like I knew the sound of his voice and heart and this… this was not the witcher returning from yet another successful hunt.

The door burst open and a man entered, covered in dirt and blood. He had been there. He had been at the lake with my husband.

Jaskier immediately shifted in his seat, pulling a pot of ink, a feather and a booklet from his bag.

“The witcher,” the old man gasped, “he…”

My stomach twisted more and I tried to breathe calmly, if only for the sake of my son. “Tell us what happened,” I demanded, my voice calm despite the growing storm inside.

“He’s gone… the village too,” he man stuttered out. I shook my head in disbelieve “I tell you no lie. It swallowed the whole village, it did. Not a bone to be found!”

The people around us gasped, but right now, I couldn’t care less about the village. All I wanted to know was if my husband was well.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, shitling!” the old man warned a villager and continued, “that’s why we had to call him… The White Wolf! And he stood in the middle of that frozen lake like he knew it was coming from him. The ice cracked open and a selkiemore shot out! Oh, you’ve never seen one, but it’d take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil’s teeth!”

Another gasp. I hugged Crevan closer to my body. Deep down I knew Geralt would be fine, but I couldn’t help but worry, now that it wasn’t only just the two of us. Now we had a son, who needed a father.

“And it… swallowed… that witcher… whole!”

I fought the lump that was building in my throat. I was overreacting. My body still messed up from the pregnancy. Geralt was fine!

“Oh, this is brilliant!” Jaskier exclaimed next to me. All eyes, including mine, where on him now. “Oh, sorry. It’s just Geralt’s usually so stingy with the details,” The bard quickly explained the shocked looking townsfolk. “Uh… and then what happened?” he urged the man to continue.

“He died,” came the man’s answer.

I bit my teeth together. I knew Geralt was fine, why was I about to cry? Just then, I heard footsteps approaching, familiar ones this time. I lifted my head to watch the door. Oh no, forget that! My nose picked up a foul smell and I contemplated if I should make a run for the stairs, preparing a well needed bath for my husband. My thoughts were once again interrupted by the bard.

“Eeh, he’s fine,” Jaskier piped.

“Look, I was there. I saw it with my own-“ the man was interrupted by the loud crashing of the door bursting open. And the smell hit my nose with full force. I quickly stood up, really planning to make a run for it this time, for Crevan’s sake, but the crowd, opening a path for the witcher, blocked my way.

“See?” jeered the bard, not looking up from his note book. At this moment, Geralt stepped up at the table Jaskier was seated at. The crowd either gasped or held their noses. The smell was almost unbearable. I stood there with our son in my arms, wanting to hug and kiss the annoyed looking witcher, more than glad to have him back, but his appearance and smell stopped me. Instead, I shifted Crevan in my arms, so he could see his daddy.

“Look who’s back,” I cooed quietly. The townsfolk was probably oblivious to our relationship. Even better: I heard them whispering how ‘the bard settled for an elven bitch’ but I shrugged it off. They were wrong in so many ways.

The bard just chuckled, while the townsman looked confused.

“Oh… What’s that stench?” he asked, as if it weren’t obvious. I rolled my eyes.

“Selkiemore guts,” Geralt grunted, “Had to kill it from the inside. I’ll take what I’m owed,” grumbled the tall man. And with that Jaskier started singing that damned song again.

“Toss a coin to your witcher

O’ valley of plenty

Whoa”

The people inside the tavern joined in.

“Toss a coin to your witcher

A friend of humanity”

Rising from his seat, the bard slowly reached out for my husband’s shoulder, but stopped when his fingers grazed the slimy guts covering the fabric.

“Yikes,” he muttered while the Geralt made his way to the bar. I followed, careful not to touch the witcher, bouncing our son on my hip as the bard skipped behind us.

“You’re welcome.”

Geralt was handed a pint of ale.

“And now, Witcher, it’s time to repay your debt.”

Geralt took a sip of his ale and immediately spit it out, glaring at the man behind the bar with look on his face that said more or less ‘are you fucking kidding me?! What is this shit?’. I laughed, but Jaskier ignored this and continued rambling.

“’What debt?’ you’re probably asking yourself in your head right now. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten per cent of all your coin, but instead, what I’m asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favour.”

Oh, well, being allowed to live with us for almost a year wasn’t enough then, huh? But I knew what he was getting at… the banquet. He hadn’t told Geralt, but he had told me, over a year ago, that he fully intended to go, the Cintran court always good for some fresh gossip. I was wary. Cintrans hated elves and I was already trying my best to hide my slightly pointed ears.

“Fuck off, bard,” Geralt finally reacted to Jaskier’s rambling, grunting.

But Jaskier – being Jaskier – was persistent. “For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods,”

Geralt was uninterested and turned to leave, but stood there for a short moment, waiting for me to follow.

“Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile,” Jaskier gushed.

Once I was close to my husband, waiting for him to start moving again, he left.

I listened to the bard behind us, waiting for him to realize that by now he was talking to nothing but air.

“And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of-“ And the coin dropped. I snickered to myself. “Fuck! Food women and wine, Geralt!” Jaskier called out behind us, clearly naming his motivation to go. Still, this caught Geralt’s attention and he motioned for the bard to follow us upstairs to the room we were currently occupying.

“I’ll go prepare that bath,” I mumbled, before rushing up the stairs, happy to get a little distance between my foul-smelling husband and myself.

I conjured the bath and sat in the washroom, leaning against the wall as I fed Crevan. Geralt came stomping in and smiled at the view of the steaming tub, discarding of his sticky clothes. He lowered himself into the hot water and grunted appreciatively.

Neither of us really noticed Jaskier getting rid of my husband’s gut-covered clothes and disappearing for a while.

“You were really inside that thing?” I mumbled after a while.

“Hmm. The only way to kill it.”

“But…” I sighed, “You knew you’d get out in time before it drowned you, right?”

Geralt opened his eyes, gazing at me softly. “Yes, I knew. Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the job, my love.”

I smiled, nodded and got up, burping Crevan on my way out – my blouse had to be washed anyway…

Jaskier came back and took over in the washroom, taking good care that every last bit of selkiemore was washed off my husband. He grunted loudly as Jaskier dumped a bucket of water over his head, washing away a little of the guts that still clung to his body.

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest,” the bard chided. “It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?”

“I didn’t know Roach needed a bodyguard,” I chimed in from the main room as I put our sleeping son in the crib I had conjured for him, earning a glance and a tiny smile from the currently extremely grumpy witcher though the doorway, before he turned to the cheery man.

“I’m not your friend,” stated the bathing man.

“Yes, you are,” I mumbled to myself.

“Oh. Oh, really? Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?”

Probably… I never had to do that, not as of late at least. Why would I? We hadn’t been on the road together for ages; no sore bums to take care of.

Geralt turned to the bard, glaring daggers at him.

“Yeah, well, yeah, exactly. That’s what I thought,” Jaskier mumbled. “Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance!” the bard declared then, throwing a pinch of bathing salt into the tub, while Geralt continued to stare at him, a stern, almost threatening look on his face.

“How many of these lords want to kill you?” he finally spoke up.

“Hard to say. One stops counting after a while. Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes,” Jaskier confessed.

Damn, keep it in your pants for once, will you?! I mean, I knew about his … habit… but this!

Geralt just glared at him, the expression never faltering. Smirking, I leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene.

“Ooh, yeah, that face! Scary face. No lord in his right mind will come close if you’re standing next to me with a puss like that.”

I shook my head slightly and stepped away from the doorway, leaving these two to get myself dressed.

A dark blue dress with burgundy trim was draped over my bed, a note resting atop it, saying ‘wear this’. How had I not noticed that before? Due to the lack of alternatives – my blouse soiled with sweat and dirt from the road as well as burped up milk and… my bag nowhere in sight, I started putting the dress on, listening to the conversation coming from the washroom.

“Ooh, on second thoughts… might want to lay off the Cintran ale.” A groan. “A clear head would be best.”

“I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry,” Geralt protested.

I giggled.

“But I had to, for the last fifteen months! And I’ll continue to have to,” I said loud enough for them to hear and low enough not to wake the sleeping child.

“I’m not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men,” Geralt continued, ignoring me.

“Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time.”

Yeah, well, that’s true…

“Ugh. Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous? Actually, I’ve always wanted to know, do witchers ever retire?”

“Yeah, when they slow and get killed.”

“Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this… monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

“I want nothing. I already have more than I ever thought I’d have, but I still won’t stop doing my job.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe one day you’ll have to. Nienna and Crevan…”

“You know damn well that Nienna is capable of handling herself. Once Crevan is older, she doesn’t need me to be around all the time. I will not – I cannot – stop. That is not what I was made for.”

I wish he could. The last year… it had been perfect. He’s always happy and relaxed at home and I wish he could stay forever. But it was a dream, it could never be permanent. I knew and accepted this. He had tasted blood again; it was in his nature, his mutations that he couldn’t stop now.

“And yet… here we are. You have a son now. You will have to stop eventually.”

“Hm.” Water splashing. “Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?”

Yeah, I want to know too. Where is my bag? that dress… I haven’t worn one this tight in forever and the corset of the underwear was heavily constricting my ability to breathe, not to mention that I would have difficulties feeding Crevan.

“Ah. Well, uh, they were sort of covered in selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway, you’re not going tonight as a witcher.”

I stepped into the room. “And as what are we going then. I swear to the gods, if I suffocate in this dress…” I growled, amusing my husband, and startling the bard. They both turned to look at me and gaped at the sight for a second.

“My love…” Geralt breathed, wide eyed.

Yes, the dress was pretty, and I felt beautiful wearing it, but at the same time it was tight and heavy and I knew that if it came to a fight – and it surely would, this is the Cintran court we’re talking about – this dress would hinder me. What was I thinking about?! I couldn’t fight! I had to carry Crevan around. As much as I knew Geralt wanted he could, he’d have to be the one defending us from anyone who’d come at me for being part elf.

Carefully, I did my hair in a loose half up-do, covering up my ears. All the while, both men quickly finished cleaning up and got dressed, preparing to leave for the court of the Lioness.


	56. Royalty Is Best Taken In Small Doses

The clothes Jaskier had picked out for Geralt made him look so much less threatening, almost human, if it weren’t for his amber glare the silvery white hair – now all clean, no selkiemore remains to be found – and the large sword, which was not strapped on his back for a change, but dangling from his belt. To say he looked handsome was an understatement and I found myself shocked that after more than fifteen years of being with this man, knowing him better than myself, he could surprise me.

“Well, don’t you two clean up nicely?” Jaskier marveled at the Geralt and me, dusting off the witcher’s black doublet, earning a grunt from my husband and a glare from us both.

We were not used to wear nice clothes. I wore dresses, sure, but I still had to work in them. This bodice was tight, too tight for my liking and I felt trapped. And when we were on the road, I wore the clothes I used to wear before we settled down – blouses and trousers. For our lifestyle, the clothes had to be practical. The bard on the other hand liked colourful, impractical clothes. For this special occasion, he was wearing a golden doublet with matching trousers, the fabric shimmering in the light.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s for one day,” the bard chided at us and began walking towards the castle’s big entrance.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” he said to the guard preventing him from entering, “And my, uh, companions,” he added, pointing at Geralt and me. The guard let us pass, giving us a weird look – a large white-haired man and a small woman carrying a child in a wrap were a rare sight in Cintra, apparently.

Soon enough we found ourselves at the entrance on the large throne room.

“Right, so stick close to me, look mean and pretend you’re mute. Can’t have anyone finding out who you are,” the bard reminded us “And Nienna, you look pretty and at least pretend you are charming, got it? And don’t mention that you’re married to a witcher!”

I smiled calmly. “Don’t worry, Jaskier. But as famous as you made Geralt, I think your plan will fail, more sooner than later.”

Jaskier gazed at me, nervously, clinging on to the strap of his lute. Shit, there really were a lot of lords after him.

Just as we stepped around a corner, a man spotted us, recognized my husband and called out for him, raising his tankard into the air. “Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!”

Jaskier cursed under his breath and the man came over. “I haven’t seen you since the plague,” he continued talking. 

Well, so much for the plan…

“Good times, Mousesack,” Geralt, deadpanned causing the man, Mousesack, to laugh.

“I’ve missed your sour complexion,” he laughed, clearly drunk. “I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here, perhaps all is not lost. Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?”

The witcher didn’t say a word; he just glared at the bard, who tried to ignore the men talking.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Walk with me,” Mousesack asked my husband and they left us. For a second I stood there, contemplating if I should go with them, but Jaskier couldn’t be left alone.

The bard stepped away, babbling something about mingling with the crowd and avoiding angry husbands. I followed him quickly, keeping a little distance not to ruin his chance with the ladies – only the eligible ones, of course. Close enough to step in should something happen, but far away enough not to seem like a weird stalker.

It all went well for a while, until a lord stepped up to the bard.

“You!”

Jaskier pretended as if he didn’t notice the lord.

“Hey, you!” the lord spat, finally catching the bard’s attention. I stepped closer, hastily making a plan how I could save my friend from the wrath of this angry lord, as my dear husband was too deep into conversation with a friend he had never mentioned before.

“You. I’ve seen you before. You slept with my wife!” That man was fuming.

I decided to step in, sliding one hand around Jaskier’s waist and resting the other on the child in the wrap, ‘his child’ for the moment being, clinging to his side. I looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Dear? What is this all about?” I asked timidly.

“This man right there slept with my wife!” the lord yelled again. I turned towards him, still an innocent look on my face.

“You must be mistaking, my lord. You see, my husband has been nothing but faithful ever since we met as children,” I smiled sweetly at the lord, softly caressing Crevan’s back, hoping that would convince the noble to leave us alone. Luckily it worked and the lord left. I stepped back from Jaskier, both hands coming up to support Crevan, even though it was not necessary with the sling, binding him to my chest. Despite the loud murmur of conversation around us, my son was sleeping soundly.

“Wow. Thank you. Married. And a Father!” Jaskier huffed as soon as the lord was out of sight.

“Well, you’re welcome. If not for me you could have been dead my now, or at least challenged to a duel or whatever you nobles do. I had to improvise. And you wouldn’t be in that mess if you could keep it in your pants for once, but here we are,” I whisper shouted at him, eyeing the people around us suspiciously, before marching off to go find my husband.

A second lord approached Jaskier. I spotted Geralt noticing that, making his way through the crowd towards the stuttering bard. I joined my husband, staying behind a little, not knowing if the situation could get out of hand.

“Something about you reminds me of a scoundrel I once saw fleeing my wife’s chambers!” the lord hissed while stepping closer to the nervously stuttering bard. “Drop your trousers,” the lord commanded.

“What?” confusion written all over Jaskier’s nervous face.

“I didn’t get a proper look at the little shit’s face, but that pimply arse I’d remember anywhere.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at this. Geralt patted my shoulder once, gently so, before stepping up to Jaskier and the short, fat, fuming noble.

“Well… uh, uh… Ah, Geralt,” the bard stuttered and chuckled nervously.

“Forgive me, my lord.” Geralt spoke, surprisingly polite, the usual roughness of his voice almost gone, “This… happens all the time. It’s true, he has the face of a cad and a coward. But, truth be known, he was kicked in the balls by an ox as a child.”

I snorted, and I don’t know what was funnier: my husband’s words or Jaskier’s offended face

“Well, that’s… tr-true,” Jaskier stuttered.

Turning first to Geralt, then the bard, the lord said “Apologies. Here, drown your…sorrows on me, eunuch,” tossing a coin to the bard.

As the lord left, I stepped closer to the two men, leaning up against my husband’s side while he put his hand on the small of my back.

“Oh, wow. Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jaskier complained. “First of all, you hog all the fanfare, then you go and ruin my courtly reputation.”

“I saved your life. You’re on your own from here on,” responded the witcher.

“Don’t take it personally, minne. He reacted the same way when I pretended to be his wife to save him from the lord before,” I told my husband. He tensed up shortly, his hand on my back wrapping around my waist, a silent ‘you are mine’. I hummed and put my head against Geralt’s chest.

“Try not to get any daggers in your back before dawn,” he added, addressing the bard again, tilting his head a little.

At this moment fanfares started blaring and a herald called out. “All rise for Her Majesty, the Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra!”

I stood up straighter, realizing in this moment that I’ve never been to a royal court before – except in Temeria, but that didn’t count since I’ve never actually been in the same room as the king. And though I would have to hate her for prosecuting elves and brutally murdering them, I didn’t want any unnecessary attention on me for not following courtly protocol.

The queen strode into the throne room, bloody and wearing armour. Honestly, I don’t really know what I had expected, but the view before me surprised me. Calanthe came marching in bloodied and wearing armour. I knew she fought her own battles, but I never thought she’d do so on her daughter’s betrothal feast.

“Beer!” she called out, grabbing a pint of ale off a tray and throwing her helmet to a servant behind her. The crowd cheered and Jaskier made his way over to a small stage for the musicians, while Geralt and I remained leaning against the wall, one of his arms still wrapped around my waist, the other.

The queen addressed the crowd. “Apologies, noble sirs. A few upstart townships in the south needed reminding who was Queen.”

The crowd laughed and cheered.

“I find it’s good for one’s blood and humours.”

The crowd jeered.

“Ready your suitor’s tales of glory, good lords. My daughter is ready to have this over with. As am I.”

With a vague gesture of her hand she added “Bard, music!”

The crowd cheered yet again and Jaskier bowed his head as he started a song, which was immediately interrupted by the Lioness. “No, no, no! A jig! You save your bloody maudlin nonsense for my funeral.”

And so, Jaskier started playing a lively tune together with some other musicians.


	57. Not A Boring Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allright, so, here is the second (of, i think four) part of the banquet in cintra. if you have read my other story 'the white wolf and a stray puppy' you may (or may not) notice that most of the chapter (apart of the conversation of course, as i took it from the episode and added some things here and there to build in nienna more) is the same or similar to my older story. i changed a lot, seeing that the two women are different characters, but when describing the scene, i couldn't find better fitting words than the ones i had already used, so the discription of the situation is pretty much the same, the comments from the character are different.  
> just thought i'd give you a heads up...
> 
> anyway... enjoy <3<3<3

I stayed with Geralt, leaning against the bannister of the colonnade, each of us a drink in hand, he had beer, of course, and I had water – good Gods, how I miss a good drink! – and watching the crowd. Geralt still had his arm around me, not caring about what anyone though, gazing down at our son ever so often. More than once, I had kissed his cheek of stubbly jaw, and more than once, he had responded with a kiss to my temple or hairline.

Soon enough a fight broke out among the lords – as it had to come. One of them claimed to have slain a manticore, while another refused to believe him. 

“You lie, you little shite!” yelled the first one, a tall redhead. “You’ve never faced so much as a bad meal in your life, never mind a manticore.”

My husband and I exchanged a knowing glance, smirking – we had, and oh, sometimes I could still feel the scratching of the tree bark against my back when I remember what happened after that – and then proceeded to watch the scene in silence, smirks still plastered on our faces.

“I’ve had manticores thrice as fat and ugly as you perish under my steel!” protested the second lord.

The redhead countered, “Under your bullshit, more like. How many stings has it got then?”

“Two,” replied the second man.

“Hah! Go away and shite! It’s five. I know,” bragged the first lord.

I watched as a woman stepped up to the queen, whispering something to her, eyeing the witcher next to me.

“Your majesty, that’s Geralt of Rivia,” I heard her whisper, my elven ears picking up the soft sound over the men’s yelling.

“I’ve actually killed one,” the first lord still boasted and the other one attacked the man, grabbing him by the doublet.

Before anything could escalate – much to my disappointment as the banquet was rather boring, though… it was best for the sake of little Crevan – the queen yelled out.

“Enough! We have a renowned guest here tonight.”

Everybody turned to look at Geralt, ignoring me standing next to him, pressing closer to my husband, hating the sudden attention.

“Perhaps he can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth.”

“Neither!” he spoke, earning him an offended call from one of the lords.

“Are you calling me a liar, old man?” the lord who started the fight said.

“The Butcher of Blaviken bleats utter nonsense,” the second lord remarked.

Ooh, boy, watch it. If the situation were different, he would be lying on the ground now, because of either Geralt’s fists or my magic. Geralt glanced at Jaskier, and I followed his gaze to see the bard shaking his head almost unnoticeably, a worried, pleading look on his face. Better not offend royalty. Looking down in mocked defeat, an arrogant smirk stretching his lips, Geralt started speaking, while lifting his head to look at the lords. “Perhaps the lords encountered… rare subspecies of manticore.”

This caused the queen to laugh, while Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Perhaps our esteemed guest would like to entertain us with how he slayed the elves at the edge of the world?” the queen laughed, mocking the witcher.

“There was no slaying. I had my arse kicked by a ragged band of elves. I was about to have my throat cut when Filavandrel let me go. If it weren’t for my wife, I’d probably be dead,” Geralt admitted, still smirking, his hand on my waist giving me a small squeeze.

The crowd murmured.

“But the song?”

I could hear Jaskier say, “Yeah, the song.” A fake smile, a stressed one, plastered on his face.

Well, that song was mostly made up…

“At least when Filavandrel’s blade kissed my throat, I didn’t shit myself. Which is all I can hope for you, good lords. At your final breath, a shitless death,” Geralt said, raising his pint of ale. And muttering into the pint he added “But I doubt it.”

This caused the crowd, and me to laugh, and I relaxed when attention on us lessened.

“It would have been your blade at Filavandrel’s throat had you been there, Your Majesty,” one lord said, clearly flirting with the queen, causing the crowd to cheer. “Not that any elven bastard would crawl from their lair to meet you on the field.”

I balled my fists. I could probably beat the queen easily. Geralt’s hand on my back rubbed soothing circles and I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

“What about the song where you get married to an elven bitch?” one lord spat out.

Mortified, my eyes darted around the room, but I couldn’t make out which one of these stuck up sons of bitches had called that. My eyes landed on Jaskier, who caught my gaze, his face apologetic and remorseful. He had sung that song on other occasions than on Geralt’s and my wedding day?!

“This one is true,” my husband smirked proudly, pulling me closer to him, a possessive hand now resting on the side of my bum, while I was still shocked, keeping my face turned downwards on our son, my hands fumbling with the fabric of the wrap.

The queen smiled. “Any man willing to paint himself in the shadow of his failures will make for far more interesting conversation this night,” the Lioness said, “Come, Witcher. Take a seat by my side while I change.”

Geralt wasn’t thrilled to have to leave my side and sit upfront, but even he couldn’t refuse the queen’s request, not when every single person in the room had their eyes practically stuck to the witcher. He gave me a worried glance, but I smiled at him.

“Go. We’ll be fine,” I whispered. Geralt bowed to the queen’s command and left my side, still a slightly uneasy look on his face.

Well, I wasn’t so happy about this either, but there was nothing I could to, so I accepted my fate. With my husband gone and Jaskier performing, I was utterly alone, apart from little Crevan, who was now awake, watching the crowd with great interest.

I stayed where Geralt had left us, not even thinking about mingling with the crowd. Even with my ears still concealed, thanks to that one stupid noble, even the most drunk person in this room could tell that I was the ‘elven bitch’ married to the witcher.

I noticed my husband never taking his eyes off me, watching me from the forced distance between us. A few lords approached me over the time, either too drunk to realize that I was not on the market – as if the child bound to my chest didn’t make it obvious -, or simply suicidal. I only smiled sweetly at them, nodding over their shoulders, making them turn their heads to see the glaring witcher, seated far away, yet still dangerous – if one of them dared as much as give me another glance after spotting my husband, they could say farewell to at least one bodypart.

Soon enough, luckily, the feast began and everybody settled down to eat, leaving my son and me be. To my relief Jaskier invited me to sit at the small table prepared for the musicians, and I was more than thankful for that, as I would have been utterly lost without him, now that Geralt couldn’t be there to keep us company. I loosened the wrap around Crevan and had him sit in my lap, facing his uncle Jas. With the small child at the table, cooing excitedly at the weird faces Jaskier was making, I relaxed; maybe being around royalty wouldn’t be as bad as I first thought.

From the distance, it was difficult even for me to follow the queen’s hushed conversation with Geralt, but from what I gathered, she wanted Geralt to kill somebody who would show up later today. He declined. When the queen mentioned that the witcher had been hired by the bard, my husband smiled, stating that he was “Helping the idiot free of his coin”

“And he is the idiot?” Calanthe had muttered.

Geralt had turned to face her then. “I’m just a husband wanting to keep the peace with his wife,” he had said, before meeting my eyes from across the room. Calanthe knew better than to insult my heritage in front of Geralt if she wanted to reach whatever goal she had.

Knowing full well that I had been listening, my husband shot me a quick smile. Chuckling, I rolled my eyes – that wasn’t the only reason Geralt was protecting Jaskier -, turning back around to join in with the musicians’ lively conversation.

We ate and joked, until a herald stepped up to the queen’s elevated table at the head of the room, announcing… someone, I didn’t really care to be honest.

“Lord Peregrine of Nilfgaard.”

The crowd booed at that. One man was blaring his bagpipes every time the lord wanted to speak – making multiple attempts, only to be stopped by the shrill instrument over and over – causing the crowd to laugh and the queen to scold at the lord.

“Make another sound, Draig Bon-Dhu, and I’ll have your guts sewn into pipes and sent to your mother.”

I must say, even though she kills my kin for fun, I liked her attitude. It’s not easy to be a woman in a profession dominated by men – I know that from travelling with Geralt – but she held so much authority, making some men cower away with just one glance. She may not always be doing the right thing – like… killing my kind, for example –, but she cared for her kingdom, I must give her that.

The lord with the bagpipes swallowed hard and put down the instrument, looking absolutely terrified.

“Queen Calanthe,” the Nilfgaardian lord started, nervous yet somewhat proudly, “My marriage to your daughter will unite the jewels of the north and the south, forging an unbreakable alliance that none would dare to cross. And… I’m one of five brothers with no sisters. My potent seed inside Pavetta will produce the strongest of male heirs.”

If I may say one thing? Ew. Also, this man had no idea what is going on in a woman’s body when she’s pregnant, did he?

The princess looked to her mother, shocked – and honestly, I felt so sorry for her. Being sold off for political advantage must be horrible. Calanthe glanced at her daughter, and then addressed the Nilfgaardian lord who dared to talk about the princess in such an objectifying way.

“Cintra is indeed the jewel of the north,” the queen stated arrogantly. “Yet Nilfgaard remains the shit rag of the south, and that’s saying something!”

The crowd erupted with laughter and jeering.

“Tell me, is it true that you drink piss water and feast on your own young?” she questioned mockingly.

More laughter came from the crowd; but I felt uneasy, as if someday, she might regret saying that.

“Nilfgaardian kings don’t remain kings for long. Who will take the Usurper’s crown? You? How long will you last? A year? A month? A day?”

The queen’s mocking caused the crowd to cheer yet again. Mortified and offended the Nilfgaardian turned and left.

Now I really had the feeling that this is going to bite Cintra in its arse eventually, and judging from my husband’s face, he suspected about the same.

The herald announced the next suitor. “Lord Steergart of Kaedwen.”

Princess Pavetta looked scared, with tears in her eyes. I felt sorry for her, I really did. Being married off to a man for political advantages was one of the reasons I wasn’t jealous of anyone in her position. I valued my freedom of being with the man I truly loved.

This continued for almost the whole evening. Suitors being introduced, claiming to be perfect for Pavetta and Cintra, promising a political advantage for both of their kingdoms and the queen then mocking them.

It wasn’t long before this charade was done and the time for dancing came, Jaskier now being fully in his element, performing as if he was born for this – maybe he was. His choice of song, though, shocked me. There was a child present for crying out loud, and he knew that damn well. Maybe that was why during the whole performance, he didn’t glance at me, but the smirk on his face whenever he took a small break told me that he was aware of the daggers I glared at him.

A quick glance at the queen, who seemed to be completely unfazed by the song, left me frowning slightly. Is this was entertainment at court was usually like?

“ _Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger,_

 _Come quell your daughter’s hunger_.”

The crowd was clapping along with the song and a few couples started dancing.

“ _To pull on my horn_

_As it rises in the morn._

_For ‘tis naught but bad luck_

_To fuck with a puck._

_Lest your grandkid be born,_

_A hairy young faun._

_Bleating and braying all day, hey ho._

_The fishmonger’s daughter, ba ba_ …!”

Again, I was standing leaning against the wall, watching the bard perform, and I couldn’t help but tap my foot along with the rhythm of his songs, despite the vulgar lyrics. I was catchy, by the gods! Crevan was back in the wrap, now diagonally across my chest, and I supported him with one arm.

Suddenly I heard the rattling of armour clashing from down the hallway and only moments later the guards at the entrance of the great hall were knocked down. A man clad in armour, including helmet, approached the queen. Out of reflex, I took a few steps closer to the front of the room, where Geralt was still seated at the queen’s table. He eyed the situation suspiciously, yet calm. So far, there was no danger coming from the man.

“Forgive my late intrusion, Your Majesty, and for the misunderstanding with your guards. Please! I come in peace,” the armoured man said, holding out his arms in an appeasing gesture. “I need but one moment of your time.”

He kneeled down in the middle of the room. “I am Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald, and I’ve come to claim your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The princess looked even more terrified than before, while the queen’s expression turned stern, as if she was suppressing a fire inside her from bursting. The searing flames of her anger were visible in her eyes, yet her face remained cold.

“A knight… of no renown…” she was trying hard to control her voice – her entire body – not to yell at the man, “From a backwater hamlet… who dares to enter my court without revealing his face?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. A knight’s oath prevents me from revealing my face until the sounding of the twelfth bell.”

Something was off about this man; I could feel it. There was magic, but there was no danger coming from him. This man wasn’t a threat. He was cursed.

One lord stepped up to the knight. “Bullocks to that,” he said, pushing the helmet off the knight’s head. The knight yelped as the sound of metal clashing on stone filled the throne room, keeping his head low, but it was no use; everyone could see him. The crowd gasped.

He was covered in spikes, looking like some sort of hybrid of man and hedgehog. He had been cursed, for sure.

Geralt leaned forward in his seat next to the queen, watching the knight intently.

The knight slowly rose from his kneeling state on the ground, a short growl leaving between his clenched teeth as the guards moved closer to him.

The queen stared at him, while addressing my husband, “Witcher… kill it.”

She said it so quietly, it was certainly only meant to be heard by the witcher, but from my position on the wall, I could hear every word that was exchanged up there.

“No,” Geralt growled his answer.

“Whatever the price,” the queen pressed.

“This is no monster,” the witcher refused.

“I order you.”

“This knight has been cursed.”

I was right. Of course, I had been; I could sense the magic on him the moment he had entered the room.

“You’re as useless as the rest of them,” Calanthe said to Geralt, making me glare at her – not that she noticed. Then she yelled at her guards. “Slay this beast!”

The guards unsheathed their swords, charging at the cursed knight, who easily blocked an attacking guard’s arm and knocked him out cold with one hard hit to the chest.

Quickly, I moved towards the next opening off the bannister, the low stone wall a protection against the upcoming fight, arms wrapped securely around Crevan. At the sound of clashing metal, he started crying but I quickly hushed him in Elder speech – weirdly, he’d only listen to me when I was using my mother tongue. The crying caused Geralt to snap his eyes to its source, spotting us behind the bannister. He gave me pointed look and a stern nod, a silent ‘stay there’. I nodded in response, giving him a reassuring smile.

Another guard was hit in the throat with an elbow and fell to the ground, unmoving, but not dead. Lord Urcheon turned back to face the queen.

“Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine!” he said with an elevated voice, once the little brawl was over with, his sword pointed at Calanthe. “Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise.”


	58. The Law of Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoooy <3<3<3<3<3<3<3
> 
> Also, i just wanted to take to opportunity to tell you all that i feel really really loved. your sweet comments, the kudos, the number of reads... i had never really expected people to like this story so much. so, thank you for your time reading this, encouraging me to work on this story as often as possible. 
> 
> much much love <3<3<3

A gasp sounded though the large room. Everybody stilled, many of the lords had stood up. And all were watching this cursed knight and the queen, waiting for their next move.

I, too, was tense. Surely a fight would break out in the next moments, and I prayed to the gods that Crevan would be save here. Preparing for the worst, I collected my powers, ready to use them should somebody dare to attack us.

The tension in the silent room was cut by the sound of metal dragging over metal, created by multiple swords being drawn. The royal guards.

They charged at the cursed knight and he cut them down, one after the other. Still, more were coming, one with a halberd. The axe-like lance caught the knight’s sword in its spikes, disarming the knight, his weapon clattering on the stone floor. The guard with the halberd swung his weapon at the knight, hitting him in the face and throwing him to the ground, groaning.

The Lioness rose from her seat.

The guards gathered in front of the knight, ready to strike, the one with the halberd raised the weapon and brought it down.

“No!” the princess wailed.

But the blow did not hit the knight. At inhumane speed, Geralt rushed from his seat to Urcheon’s side, blocking the halberd, his iron sword cutting through the wooden handle with ease. The knight on the ground caught the upper part of the halberd before it could hit him, while Geralt cut down the now disarmed guard, a snarl on his face. The two men looked at each other briefly, in a silent agreement to fight together.

“Kill them both!” Calanthe yelled, and the guards charged at Geralt and Lord Urcheon.

My husband sliced his way to the attacking guards in a manner that I can only describe as a dance, the movements of his tall, broad body flowing as he took on one attacker after the other. I’ve seen him fighting more times than I could count, did this dance with him, myself, many times; but never had I seen him fight against this many opponents. The way he made his way from guard to guard, cutting each down with a single, flowing movement of his sword, hypnotized me. He had taught me how to fight like this, but I would need to practice for many more years to reach his level.

I was ripped out of my trance by guests drawing whatever weapon they possessed to follow the queen’s command: to kill the witcher and the knight.

Fuck, these were too many! Even for Geralt. And I wanted to help him, fight by his side, but I couldn’t! I had to protect Crevan. Also, I didn’t even carry a sword, and the last time I had held one was the day before Geralt left for his last hunt before we found out we’d be parents. So I stayed where my husband had told me to, behind the bannister, watching the fight unfold, hands already raised at the ready to use my magic in defence.

Another lord, the one who had previously pulled the helmet off the cursed knight joined the fight on the side of Geralt and Lord Urcheon.

“The Law of Surprise has been called. You kill them… you kill me,” he said, head-butting an attacking lord in the nose and pulling a blade.

The rest of the crowd charged at the three of them, only a few people, mostly the ladies – ahem, myself included –, Jaskier and Mousesack, remained at the sides of the room, staying out of the fight.

I watched Queen Calanthe coming down the stairs, taking a sword from a guard, who had collapsed on the steps. She walked up at the lord who had joined the fight on Geralt’s side, lifting her sword ready to strike. And she did. But she did not swing at the lord, but at another man behind him.

She went over to my husband, his back turned towards her as he swung around, ready to strike at whoever he sensed behind his back. She held out her sword, blocking the potential blow that might come when the witcher turns, but he stopped himself, only a few inches separating the blades from one another.

“Stop!” she said, directed at him. Then she yelled it, directed at everybody fighting. “STOP!”

I dropped my arms, sighing with relieve as I slowly came out from behind the wall, walking towards the middle of the room to join my husband’s side.

Everybody stood still, unmoving; in the exact position they stopped fighting. Well, everybody but me.

The princess ran down from the elevated platform and up to the cursed knight. “Duny!” she half-sobbed while hugging the man. The crowd murmured.

She knew this him? And didn’t say anything before fight broke out?! I know this is the Cintran court we’re talking about; from what I’ve heard, it is not rare that fights escalate! But as a mother… This fight could have been avoided, if only for the sake of my little fox.

Once I reached Geralt, standing beside him, he put his arm around me.

“I told you to stay away,” Pavetta said to – how did she call the man? – Duny.

The queen warily made her way to stand in front of the couple. Pavetta let go of the knight and he dropped his weapon, holding his hands out to the guards. A silent ‘stay back, I surrender’.

He knelt down in front of the queen. “Your Majesty… the witcher speaks the truth.” He stood up. ”I was cursed as a young boy. My whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from a certain death. By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find… would be mine.”

The queen was furious; the late king had sold their daughter off. “Oh, the stupid bastard. Better you had let him die!”

“You knew he’d come,” Geralt commented, growling, “And you pushed me to kill him.”

Calanthe turned to her daughter. “And you, carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!” the queen screamed the last bit.

The lord who had fought on our side interrupted. “’tis no swindle. Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself.”

The queen on the other hand interrupted him. “Don’t lecture me, Eist” she told him.

“It’s an honest gamble,” the lord, Eist, continued. “As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a new-born pup. Or… a child of surprise.”

“He could not know,” said Duny during a short break.

“Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta,” ended Lord Eist his explanation for the people – cough me cough – who weren’t familiar with this tradition.

“When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way… I abandoned all thought of claiming the law of Surprise. I knew… I knew no woman would ever accept me like this. And so I waited. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse breaks. I never intended to meet her. Just to watch from afar.”

The princess spoke up, for the first time – if you don’t count her yelled ‘no’. “Until destiny intervened… and our hearts collided.”

“And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me… like this.”

Lord Eist stepped up to Calanthe.

“Who are we to challenge destiny?” he whispered to her, “Life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart.”

“Honour destiny’s wish,” Mousesack chimed in, “Or unleash its wrath upon us.”

But the queen would have none of that. “There is no us! I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child!”

Under different circumstances, I would have agreed with the queen – I couldn’t give Crevan away if my life depended on it –, but challenging destiny is a big deal. Her daughter was no child anymore, not in the eyes of her people. Calanthe was willing to marry Pavetta off, so why not give her to the man whom she loved, who happened to have destiny on his side?

“Is there no a man amongst you who does not cower before destiny?” the Lioness questioned, her voice elevated, full of authority. “You, Witcher… who has known monsters of every fang and claw… are you afraid too?”

“No. I’ve seen mothers lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the 50 other children in the plague cart outside. Destiny… helps people believe there’s an order to this horseshit. There isn’t.” Geralt answered. He may think that, but I believed in destiny, I was convinced that it was destiny that brought him to me that day, all these years ago.

“But a promise made must be honoured,” he added, “As true for a commoner… as it is for a queen.”

Calanthe just sighed, disappointed with my husband’s answer.

“I love Duny, Mother,” Pavetta said, “I will marry him. I will finally be free.”

Silence.

Everybody turned their attention to the queen, expectantly.

Calanthe turned to Eist, tears in her eyes; the strong Lioness vulnerable. She handed him her sword and he took it from her. The queen smiled weakly at him, for only one second. Then she turned towards the couple in front of her, reaching out her hand for Duny to take. The guards around us now fully lowered their weapons.

The queen stepped up close to the cursed man, whispering into his ear, “Here is your destiny.”

She stepped back a little and then everything happened so fast.

She pulled a blade from a concealed department in her dress and raised it to the knight’s throat to cut it.

The princess screamed. A long dragged out word. “No!”

I can’t explain what happened next. All of us who stood around the couple were thrown back by an invisible force. Quickly, I curled up, raising my arms crossed behind my son’s back, creating a barrier, so the rubble flying around wouldn’t hit him. Still, we were pushed backwards, until my back hit a column.

The windows burst and a wind was circulating in the room. My eyes searched the chaos for Geralt. He had been thrown back by the force and I was relieved when I found him right next to me, kneeling on the ground, trying to stay somewhat upright.

Unaffected by … everything that was happening around them, Pavetta and Duny stood in the middle of the circle created by the wind, holding hands and whispering an Elder chant. An invisible force lifted them into the air, the wind not stopping. Did it get stronger, even?

I was struggling to keep the barrier protecting Crevan, but I wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t. next to me, Geralt had finally managed to stand – bowed, yes, but he was on his feet – his hand reaching through the wind, fingers in the sign of Aard.

From one second to the other, the wind stopped and the couple, along with everybody who had managed to stand against the wind, hit the floor. Relieved and exhausted, I let my arms drop, the barrier dissolving as I leaned against the column, breathing heavily as I rocked Crevan up and down. He wasn’t crying, luckily, still, he was whimpering, and I did my best to calm him, whispering soothingly to him in Elder. Geralt stood back up – the sudden lack of resistance of the wind had made him lose his balance – putting his arm around me once again, his other hand comforting on our son’s back.

“We’re alright,” I whispered before he could even ask, smiling down at our little fox, who had calmed down and was now staring up at us with his big, blue eyes.

The sound of rubble crunching brought us back to the situation at hand, both our gazes lifting to the front of the room, to where the queen was slowly approaching the couple standing in the middle of a circle of food and rubble. She hugged her daughter, almost collapsing in her arms, as the guards and guests slowly rose to their feet.

“I thought your grandmother’s gift had skipped you… as it did me. It seems I was wrong. About so many things,” I heard her say, “Destiny has spoken! And I have listened! The Law of Surprise will be honoured. Pavetta will marry… Lord Urcheon,” the queen declared.

“React poorly, and you won’t just face the Lioness, you will be facing the sea hounds of Skellige. Because Queen Calanthe has agreed to my proposal of marriage,” Lord Eist called out, stepping next to the queen, answering to the crowd’s murmuring.

“There will be two vows here tonight! I assume that’s agreeable,” the queen stated.

Some people in the crowd bowed their head while others nodded.

“Delightful,” said Calanthe.

And so, a wedding ceremony was prepared. Servants came with boxes full of candles, handing one to each guest. Everyone gathered in a circle around the middle of the room, the couple kneeling in the middle.

I stood between Geralt, his hand once again resting on the small of my back, and Jaskier, who was holding his new muse in his arms.

I don’t how he does it, but he falls in love so easily – with everyone.

The kneeling couple lifted their intertwined hands while the queen wrapped her sash around their hands.

“Pavetta. Duny. With my blessing… I thee bind,” the strong queen’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and she smiled at the newlyweds.

The couple turned to each other and kissed. Honestly, a very emotional and beautiful moment; I was trying to hold back tears. I couldn’t help but think back to Geralt and my wedding day, the day I swore never to leave him. The day I had been sick with worry. The day I had to really take care of him and his wounds – for the first time.

Suddenly Duny barked and growled, toppling over on the ground, tossing around, until, with a wheeze, a man straightened. The curse was broken.

Excited and relieved, he crawled back to his wife and happily, they kissed again. Once they parted, Pavetta spoke, “The twelfth bell has not yet rung.”

“What has happened?” the queen inquired.

“I think your blessing of this marriage… has fulfilled a destiny. The curse has been lifted,” explained Duny.

Next to me, Jaskier spoke up. “Whew! I think this has the makings of my greatest ballade yet,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. Was he crying? This hopeless romantic.

“If you’re alive in the morning. Don’t… grope for trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn,” and with that, Geralt turned to leave, ripping me from my thoughts as he guided me with him, only to be stopped by a frantic call. Geralt let his arms drop from me, turning, while I stood behind him.

“No, wait! Wait.”

Duny scrambled to his feet, calling out for the witcher, “You saved my life. I must repay you,” he said.

“You’ve proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same. I want nothing.”

“No, please. Please, Geralt of Rivia, do not feel like you’re doing me a service. I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt.”

And finally, my husband gave in, “Fine. I… claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise. Give that what you already have but do not know.”

I feel like this is going to bite him – both of us - in the arse.

Queen Calanthe must have had a similar feeling. “No!” she called out, “What have you done, Witcher?”

“Fear not, Your Majesty, if I am seen in your kingdom again, it’ll be to kill a real monster, not to lay claim to a crop or new pup. Destiny can go fu-” but the witcher was interrupted by Pavetta gagging. The princess, still kneeling on the floor, vomited.

Oh no.

Both the queen and Duny rushed to the princess, and the queen reached her hand out to lift her daughter’s chin. “Pavetta,” she spoke. “Are you… oh.”

The girl was pregnant. Another Child of Surprise.

The three royals turned to the witcher, just like about everyone else in the room.

But Geralt only said one word before turning and leaving the room.

“Fuck.”

For a second, I stood there, shocked and wide-eyed.


	59. Reckless Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh oh, i see beef coming (not much tho)
> 
> for future reference : i'm an asshole
> 
> enjoy <3<3<3

Mousesack rushed after my husband, and so did I. Geralt pulled his sword out from a chair. It probably had gotten stuck in there due to the whirlwind the princess had somehow summoned.

“Clearly the girl has access to immense primal power,” the druid started, causing Geralt to stop in his tracks and turn. I made my way over to my husband, rocking Crevan in my arms

“Yeah, and with no idea how to control it,” the gruff voice of the witcher sounded through the dimly lit hallway.

“I’m gonna stay. Guide her,” stated the mage, causing Geralt to sigh.

“You’re a good man, Mousesack,” he then said, turning to leave once again, giving me a look and a gentle nudge to my upper arm, signalling that I should follow. I took a few steps after him, stopping when the druid spoke again.

“You should stay too,” he called after us.

But Geralt refused. “This has been enough partying for me,” he said, showing one of his rare smiles while glancing at our son. “We’re getting out of here.”

I know I’ve said that I couldn’t give my son away if my life depended on it, but after seeing what destiny was able to do if you upset it, I started to believe that Mousesack was right, that we should stay, at least until the child was born. Taking a new-born child from their parents was cruel, but apparently, destiny didn’t care about people’s emotions.

“You’re bound to this now, Geralt. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not for changing. You know me better than that.”

“Yes, I do, but you can’t outrun destiny just because you’re terrified of it. It’s coming, Geralt. Not believing won’t change that.”

“He’s right, minne,” I whispered, pleading my husband to see reason.

“Bullshit. This was just a girl using her magic to stop her mother from gutting her lover. Nothing more.”

Gods beware Crevan inheriting his father’s stubbornness!

“So you say. But the bond that will come into being between you and this child… when it is born, will be extraordinary. If you dismiss it, leave without claiming this… child surprise, you will surely unleash true calamity upon us all,” Mousesack pressed.

“I’ll take that chance.”

Next to my husband, I shook my head. This was beyond stupid. We really should stay – and I can’t believe that I’m saying this. But my silent protest was ignored.

The druid sighed, disappointed.

“Mind yourself. True words are rare birds in courts like this. Watch for daggers in your back. Or, more likely, poison,” Geralt warned, taking a step forwards and putting his right hand on the druid’s shoulder. “Be careful, old friend.”

And then he just turned and left, grazing my waist with a gentle touch, for me to come with him. Just that I didn’t, at least not right away.

I smiled apologetically at the sighing man. “I’ll try to talk some sense into him,” I offered.

“I doubt you’ll be able to. He’s always been stubborn.”

I chuckled at that, nodding in agreement, “I know. But he listens to me… well, most of the time.”

Crevan started cooing and I rocked him again.

“Is it his?” Mousesack nodded at the little bundle in my arms.

“Mh-mhh. Crevan, our son.” I smiled down at the child.

“I never thought he’d be one to settle down.”

“Well, I had to do a lot of convincing,” I laughed. “And I mean it. I will try to get him to return here, claim the child. I hate the thought of taking a child from their parents, but after what happened today… I don’t think we have a choice.”

“And you think you will get him to budge now that he is a father, now that he can imagine how the princess will feel when comes to take the child?”

I frowned. “I just hope he’ll see reason. That it has to be done, ignoring the feelings of everyone involved. Destiny is a powerful enemy to mess with, better not anger it.”

I looked over my shoulder. Geralt was nowhere to be seen, and I didn’t sense him anywhere close by. He must be already outside.

“I… should probably go. Better not keep a witcher waiting,” I chuckled.

The druid nodded. “Thank you…?”

“Nienna.”

“They may not know it, Nienna, but Cintra counts on you.”

“I will try not to disappoint. But I can’t promise anything. At the end, it’s not my decision to make…”

“No, I know,” Mousesack nodded, “Farewell.”

“Farewell,” I returned with a smile, then turned and made my way through the long halls of the castle. When I arrived outside, Geralt was standing there, holding both Roach and Shadow by the bridle, an annoyed look on his face.

“Took you long enough,” he grunted.

I ignored his tone and mounted Shadow, spurring her to trot out the gates. I heard Geralt do the same behind me. He quickly caught up, riding next to me. For some time, we rode in silence, towards the inn we had stayed before we came here; our clothes were still there.

The sun rose slowly and I yawned, my eyes starting to feel heavy, just as the inn came into view. It wasn’t long before we arrived. I let Geralt deal with the horses and went straight up to our room.

I was mad at my husband. He had challenged destiny, only that, when it came back at him, it wouldn’t only affect him. I didn’t care that it would also affect me, but it would affect Crevan and I feared for him.

Without another word, I went to bed, having put Crevan in his crib. A few minutes later, Geralt entered the room, undressed and joined me in bed. With my back facing him, he put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. Neither of us said anything for a while, but from his breath, I could tell that Geralt was still awake.

“Why did you ask for the Law of Surprise?” I broke the silence, “You could have asked for coin, anything… Why?”

“It’s their tradition,” was his answer.

“Yeah,” I scoffed, “A tradition based on destiny, something that, you said, ‘can go fuck itself’. This will come back at us. At us, Geralt! Not only you. And I don’t care that it will affect me, but if it affects Crevan, I swear!”

“Is that why you are mad?” my husband interrupted, “Nienna, destiny is not real. Nothing will happen. Not to Crevan, not to you and not to me.”

I turned in his arms. “How can you say that after what happened today? Gods, why are you so stupid?”

Geralt didn’t say anything, only watched me breathing heavily. Tears started gathering in my eyes and I tried to hold back a sob. In vain.

“I just fear for Crevan,” I whispered, broken around the lump in my throat. Geralt tightened his arm around me, pulling me closer to him, my face buried in his chest as he let me cry. His hand rubbed soothing circles on my back.

“I know,” his deep voice rumbled, “But I meant what I said. I will protect you both. Nothing is going to happen to you, my love.”

“There are things that are even out of your control,” I let out a strangled sob.

“Sleep now, Nienna. We can discuss this when we’re home.”

With his slow heartbeat and even breath right under my ear, I didn’t have much of a choice but succumb to the tiredness that took over my whole body. My eyes fell shut and my tears ceased as I fell asleep wrapped in my husband’s warm embrace.


	60. Maybe It Was Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may have cried while writing this, so just so you know. also, trigger warning: brief mention of considered suizide, murder (great cleansing) and violence (before you worry, in nienna's past).  
> i said i was an asshole. pure angst but with happy end, kinda...
> 
> enjoy, and please dont hate me after that. there will be fluff again soon  
> <3<3<3<3

The following week, we made our way back north, home. We rode in silence, mostly, and when we talked, we didn’t talk about what happened in Cintra. Geralt had said we’d discuss it once we were home, and I’d made damn sure he’d keep his word.

It was still cold in the mountains, and I wrapped my cloak tighter around Crevan and myself. Geralt rode behind us, claimed it was so he could keep an eye on us, but I knew that he did it so he didn’t have to look at me, at my petrified face. With his stupid decision, he hadn’t only put himself in danger, but also our son, if not the whole Continent. Like the druid had said: he’d unleash destiny’s wrath upon all.

My husband was one to talk about reckless actions! A year ago, he yelled at me for racing him and Roach, claiming I was risking the life of our unborn child, even though I was perfectly safe on Shadow’s back. And now, he expected me to just accept what he had done in Cintra, when the outcome could be far more dangerous, not only for us but for the whole Continent?!

Luckily, our son was still too young to notice the tension between his parents. Crevan was tied to my chest in his wrap, sleeping mostly, only crying when he was hungry or had pooped his diapers. Those were the only times we’d stop. Clean or feed him. We talked little then, both of us afraid we’d start arguing.

After a week that felt like a whole month, we finally arrived home. I had Geralt go home right away, while I lingered in the village some more, trying to build up the courage to visit Ana, to ask her if she could take care of Crevan, that I needed some time alone with Geralt to sort some things out. But I didn’t want to cause her any trouble, they had already taken care of our animals in the last two weeks. Still, I would rather Crevan didn’t hear us arguing, whether he understood it or not.

I was standing about ten minutes on the road in front of her house, fighting with myself to go and knock, when the door swung open, revealing my friend.

“Nienna? What are you doing here?” she greeted, already worried. Upon seeing my troubled expression, she pulled me into a hug, careful not to crush Crevan while doing so. “Is everything alright?” she asked after a while.

I shook my head. I was not sure, myself. Was everything alright?

“Can you take care of Crevan? For only a day or two? I need… I need some time alone with Geralt. Something came up and I… I rather keep the little one out of it,” I choked out.

Being the good soul she is, Ana took Crevan from me without further questions. Shw only gave me another long hug.

“I hope you two figure it out,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I hope that too,” I frowned, “Thank you, Ana. You’re my saviour right now.”

“It’s nothing,” she smiled at me, pulling back from the hug and squeezing my shoulder. “Now go to your husband and figure out whatever it is between you. Crevan, sweetie, say bye to mummy,” she cooed.

I wiped away a tear that managed to spill from my eye and leaned down to press a soft kiss to my son’s forehead.

“Bye, little fox. Mummy will get you as soon as she can. Be a good boy, yeah?” I whispered into the soft curls on the top of his head, before turning quickly and mounting Shadow, spurring her to gallop along the road towards our home before I could change my mind.

The whole way I was anxious. Anxious that this would tear Geralt and me apart. Anxious he’d yell at me, knowing full well that he was terrifying when he was angry. Anxious that for the first time, we couldn’t figure it out.

When our house came in sight, my heart dropped. It didn’t look as welcoming as it had when we left. Despite the fact that it was summer, dark clouds loomed above the forest. A storm was coming. Fitting.

I jumped off Shadow’s back and led her into the stable, taking my time to rid her of saddle and bridle, not overly excited to see my husband, dreading what could be the outcome.

But it was no use. I had to go in there sometime, so let’s get it done with. Tentatively, I pushed the door open, cringing as it creaked in the hinges. The house felt cold, unfamiliar almost, if it wasn’t for the all too familiar interior, I wouldn’t even have recognized it as ours.

Geralt was nowhere to be seen, and I let out a small breath of relief, not believing myself that I had done that. I swallowed hard as I closed to door behind me, taking careful steps into the main room. I could sense him, he was here, somewhere, but I couldn’t tell which room.

I checked the kitchen first. No sign of Geralt, but a bottle of liquor was missing. Great, if he was drunk…

There was no use searching downstairs; the only rooms left were my work place and the guest room or nursery. With a twisted stomach, I made my way up the stairs, once again cringing when the steps creaked.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath before entering our bedroom. Geralt was leaning against the chest at the foot of our bed, his back towards me.

“No Crevan.” His voice was gruff. A question, but it sounded like a statement.

“Left him with Ana. He shouldn’t witness this,” I explained briefly, trying to keep my voice void of emotions, just like his, but struggling with the lump still in my throat.

“Probably better that way. You always know what’s best for him.”

Normally, I’d laugh at that remark, saying something about motherly instincts, but right now, it only hurt.

Before I could blink away the tears, he stood up and turned, facing me. I spotted the bottle in his hand, still corked. He hadn’t drunk anything. Thank the gods!

“I am not going to explain myself to you. I don’t believe in destiny, or in your gods. Nothing bad will happen. You’re overreacting,” he tried to keep his voice levelled, but I could hear he was struggling.

“I’m _overreacting_?!” I gasped, “When I ride my horse while pregnant, you get to yell at me for being reckless, but when you risk not only your life, not mine, but also our son’s, I have to be okay with it? Geralt, that is not how it works! And you might not, but I believe in destiny. I believe it brought us together. And after what happened, how can you not?”

“What happened doesn’t mean shit!” he snapped and I took a step back, terrified of this large man, golden eyes wide and burning. “That girl had these powers in her from the moment she was conceived, before your ‘destiny’ sold her off to that knight. I’ve seen enough shit to know that there is no bigger order behind things. How can you still believe in that crap?! After what happened to you, your mother. You think the Great Cleansing was _fate_?!”

“I told you not to bring that up,” I spat, not even caring that tears were flowing down my cheeks now. “Telling myself that it had been fate that got me out of there was one of the main reasons I did not take my own life after having to see how my own mother was slaughtered like an animal right in front of my eyes! And when I met you I thought I had found the reason I kept going.”

“And you are stupid to believe that,” he scoffed. “From the moment we crossed paths, I had put you in danger.”

“And it was _you_ who asked me to come with you!”

“Because I was selfish!”

“That doesn’t change what we have built for ourselves! You have a life now, not just an existence as underpaid, despised monster hunter. Is that nothing to you?”

“Look, Nienna,” Geralt sighed, “It was a mistake. I make mistakes too, for fucks sake!”

I took another step backwards, my body hitting to wall. “So that is what _your son_ is to you? A _mistake_ ,” let out a broken whisper, not meeting my husband’s eyes. He realized his mistake and let out a frustrated groan.

“Fuck! Nienna, this is not what I meant.”

“You still said it,” I laughed humourlessly.

“My love,” he pleaded, “Listen to me. I meant that I ,too ,make mistakes. Crevan isn’t one! You are the best mistake I ever made. Without you, I’d probably be dead by now! Maybe claiming the Law of Surprise was a mistake… Fuck, it _defiantly_ was! Look where it got us. But it’s too late to change that now.”

I ignored what he said about us. “You can go there when the child is born and claim it. As much as I hate taking a new-born from its parents, if destiny wants that, if it will protect Crevan, I don’t think we have another choice.”

“Nienna,” Geralt sighed, “It is not your choice to make. It is mine, and I will not take the child from its parents. Because I wouldn’t want anyone doing that to us, whether I believed in fate or not. Nothing will hurt our son, nothing will hurt you, I will make sure of that, but I won’t rip an innocent child out of a loving family to be forced into the life of a witcher, not if I have a choice.”

“But you don’t have a choice!”

My vision was blurry from the hot tears streaming down my face. The storm outside was raging, rain slapping harshly against our windows. Ironic, somehow.

I didn’t notice Geralt stepping closer to me until he wrapped me into his strong arms, pulling me close.

“I sure as hell have one,” he muttered against the top of my head, “I’ll protect you, my love, and our son. And the best way to protect the child of surprise is for it to never meet me.”

“Fate will find a way, Geralt. The only question is how much it is going to hurt us in order to get what it wants. And that is what terrifies me.”

“I won’t let anything hurt you and our son; I promise you that, my love.”

“Don’t promise something you can’t keep,” I muttered dryly, “My mother had to die in order for me to get out of Dol Blathanna. My father’s death left me behind with his sword that prevented you from killing me. Destiny doesn’t stop hurting you just because you want it to, Geralt.”

For some time, neither of us said anything. Geralt let me cry into his chest, my tears soaking the fabric of his tunic as he held me close to him. Too long had I played strong for the sake of our son, but all the bottled frustration had to burst out, and it didn’t stop spilling even after our argument was over. It took a while for my tears to cease, but my husband’s strong arms around me, big hands stroking soothing circles on my back, helped me calm down.

Finally, my vision cleared, and so did my mind. Still wrapped in my husband’s embrace, I pondered and –

My head snapped up, and hit the wall. Fuck, I had forgotten where we were standing.

“Ow,” I muttered, Geralt lowering his eyes to look at me questioning. I read it in his eyes: was I about to push him away? Tell him to leave?

“What if it was fate that you chose the Law of Surprise?”

Geralt smiled, relieved. “I’ll never get the end of this, do I?” he chuckled, leaning down to give me a sweet kiss that expressed all the love that he felt he needed to prove to me after yelling at me like that. And I kissed back, making up for every mean comment that had left my mouth. He was my life after all.

“Not until you claim that child,” I mumbled once we parted, “You don’t have to do it once it is born, but don’t wait fifty years or longer.”

Geralt didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he gazed out of the window, the storm still raging outside with no end in sight. He smirked.

“We can’t go get Crevan in that weather. How about we use the time until that storm is over to get the last bits of frustration out?” he suggested, a brow arched.

“I don’t know if I like that look,” I laughed, “What are you suggesting?”

Again, my husband didn’t respond. He threw me over his shoulder, only to drop me onto the bed seconds later. I bounced as it hit the soft mattress, squeaking with surprise. In only another second, Geralt was above me, hungrily swallowing my squeal with his mouth on mine.

Yeah, I think we need that.


	61. Are You Fucking Sorry?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i got carried away... oops. but then again, is there a better way to make up than fucking the frustration out?? idk.
> 
> so grab a class of cold water, lock your doors and enjoy <3<3<3

For too long, I hadn’t felt him like this. His strong, heavy body settled between my legs, big hands groping me, tugging at my clothes while his lips claimed mine in an urgent kiss. All I could hear, smell, feel, taste was Geralt, and it made me dizzy. I didn’t even realize that he ripped my corset apart until it was too late, the tearing sound of the leather making my head snap up, parting the kiss rather harshly.

“Geralt!” I gasped as he pulled the ruined piece of leather from my body.

“You can just conjure a new one,” he growled, dropping the remainder of my beloved corset to the floor, diving back down to shove my blouse up my body, licking a broad stripe up my stomach as he went. Eyes dark, pupils blown. This wasn’t my sweet, loving husband; this right now was the witcher, the animal, taking over. I shuddered at that thought.

My blouse was quickly discarded and Geralt latched back onto my lips, claiming my mouth, sharp teeth tugging on my bottom lip so hard I could taste blood. I moaned into the kiss.

His hands groped my aching breasts, kneading them and twisting my nipples almost to the point of pain. But the pain was more than welcome. All I could do was mewl for him as I clung onto his hair, tugging to get him even closer to me. Impossible, as my brain told me, but my body didn’t listen; I _needed_ him closer.

Geralt pressed his still growing hardness into me, making me buck my hips, rolling them against his bulge. He broke the kiss, lips red and puffy.

“Fuck, love, I can smell how wet you are for me,” he growled lowly as he let the tips of his fingers ghost down my ribcage _teasingly_ slow, making yet another wave of wetness soak into my pants. Goosebumps spread on my body, making him smirk darkly. He loved the effect he had on me, especially when he was rough and commanding.

Finally, _finally,_ his fingers reached the hem of my trousers. Not even bothering to untie the laces, he ripped them down my legs, along with my boots and underwear. He got off the bed, standing at the edge, dropping my clothes to the floor with a thud.

I gasped when I was fully exposed to him, predator eyes taking me in like prey as I panted from just his touch and the thrill of him being this rough with me – he rarely was.

For a moment, he only stared at my heaving form, vulnerable, for him to take, to do whatever he wanted to me. In return, I stared up at him, trembling in anticipation, shivering under his hot stare.

“Look at you,” he growled yet again, “So fucking desperate. You think you deserve to be fucked after acting like a bitch the whole week?”

I mewled, unable to speak. This was an act, he didn’t really mean it, but oh gods, how it turned me on.

“Please,” I whimpered, fingers gripping the sheets, my body writhing, “Please, oh fuck!”

“Are you sorry for the shit you said?” he asked, a brow cocked as he pulled off his tunic.

How did he expect me to answer when he did _that_? I pressed my eyes close to think straight.

“Are you?” I challenged, breaking with the game for only a moment.

And for only a moment, his expression changed, soft eyes now peering down at me.

“I am,” he breathed.

“Then so I am. Now come here.” I reached out my arms in an attempt to grab him and pull him onto the bed, but he was out of my reach.

Geralt chuckled, “Oh no. You’re not in control, love. You’re been bad, you deserve to be punished, don’t you think?”

“Geralt, I swear, if you don’t get your trousers off and fuck me right now, I’m going to get out of this bed and go get our son!” I threatened, wanting nothing more than for him to pound me into the mattress.

Though my threat was empty, it made him act, stripping quickly of his boots, trousers and pants. He leaned down and grabbed my arms, pulling me back up harshly. I stumbled against his chest.

“You wouldn’t,” he growled against my neck, sinking his teeth into the soft skin where my neck met my shoulder. Geralt let his lips ghost up my throat, leaving hot open mouthed kisses behind as I threw my head back, releasing a long, breathy moan.

“You need this way too much.”

He smirked, leading me backwards until my bum met the cold wood of the chest at the foot of our bed. My eyes went wide when I caught on to his plans.

Quickly, Geralt turned me around and bent me over onto the cool surface, leaning down to whisper – more like growl – into my ear, letting me feel the entire strength of his body.

“Or don’t you?”

“Fuck, Geralt!” I cried out, so fucking desperate, I felt pathetic.

He pushed his hips farther against my bum, letting me feel his thick and pulsing hardness that I so desperately craved.

“Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you need,” my husband breathed against my neck before sucking a dark hickey right against my pulse point, licking the stinging skin. Ever so slowly, he let his hands run down my back towards my hips, pulling them back against him, burying his cock between my cheeks, the underside grinding against my soaked folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, fingers digging into my hips, marking me. I moaned at the thought of his imprints that’d be there in the morning. “You like it when I’m rough with you, hm? Like it when I make you my slut?”

I shouldn’t like the way he talked to me, but fuck, I loved it. He was finally letting go after holding back for so long and I loved it.

“Please, minne,” I whined, “Please fuck me, make me yours!”

With a satisfied smirk – that I couldn’t see but sense – Geralt pulled back, one of his hands leaving my hip to line himself up with my entrance, swiping his tip along my slit, coating it up with my juices.

“Stop teasing and fuck me already!” I cried out when his tip circled my clit, making me clench around nothing.

That made him snap. With one fluent thrust, he sheathed himself into me, filling me to the brim, by slippery walls offering little resistance. I yelped, nails digging into the wooden surface.

“You’re not in control, love,” Geralt growled into my ear, sharp teeth grazing the shell.

His fucking voice, the smell of his sweat, his grip on me, the stretch, the feeling of being so full of him… He was occupying all my senses and fuck, it felt so good!

“So… fucking tight,” Geralt groaned above me, resting his forehead against my spine, letting me adjust to his size before he’d fuck me senseless.

When my heavy breathing turned into whines, Geralt pulled back, leaving only the tip inside, before snapping his hips forward with all his might. The air was punched out of my lung at that first thrust, and fuck, as he continued to pound into me, my breathing grew shallow and short, not enough air entering my lungs to even moan.

Pressure grew in my belly, ignited by the sinful groans that came from Geralt with every of his deep thrusts, stimulating every nerve inside me, the head of his cock rubbing against my sweet spot deliciously. I clenched around him, hard. I wasn’t going to last long.

“Fuck,” I gasped out, “Minne… I – ah – I’m close.”

But I hadn’t expected what he did next. He pulled out – fucking pulled out – and lifted me up, carrying me over to the bed and let me drop onto my back, climbing back on top of me. Gripping onto the back of my thighs, he pulled me towards him, re-entering me in one fluid motion. My hands, now finally able to reach him, flew to his hair, tangling my fingers in the long strands, directing his mouth towards mine, swallowing his groans as he did my moans.

Geralt pounded into me mercilessly, one hand at the back of my head with his elbow supporting his weight, the other tightly gripping my hip, holding me in place. I tried to meet his thrusts, but he wouldn’t let me; he was in control and all I had to do was take him.

Right now, he was all beast, resembling more what he hunted than the human he once was. And I shouldn’t like it as much as I did, but fuck! I was willing to take everything this man would give me.

His mouth left mine, nipping along my jaw, his forceful thrusts never faltering, wrecking me, destroying me in the best way possible. My walls quaked around him. I was close once again. And this time, he wouldn’t stop me. He couldn’t. I could feel it. I felt him swell inside me, twitch with the nearing of his high.

He shifted slightly, changing the angle of his pounding, now drilling right into my sweet spot while his pubic bone rubbed against my clit. I clenched around his cock, trying to get him even deeper inside me, needing him to speed up, slow down, I didn’t know, my brain was hazy and literally fucked.

The pressure in my belly threatened to explode.

“Ger- ah, fuck. I’m… I’m… shit,” I let out a broken moan.

“I’m too, love,” Geralt groans into my ear and I tug his head back to mine, crashing my lips against his. His hand cradles the back of my head, pulling it up a little, a harsh contrast to his still rough thrusts.

But that little sweetness was all it took for me to burst, to sail over the edge with a cry so loud, Geralt’s mouth on mine did little to muffle it. Stars danced in front of my eyes as my muscles twitched and tensed, my walls clenching incredibly tight around Geralt, so tight that I almost push him out of me – were he a regular man and not blessed with superhuman strength that is.

He buried himself deep into my quaking walls, tensing and twitching as his own high took over only a few seconds after mine. He came with an animalistic roar ripping from his throat, his head thrown back as his hot seed shot deep inside me, coating my walls, marking me as his for only the two of us to know. The sensation and that thought had me trembling, more than the aftershocks of my orgasm.

Geralt did a few more shallow thrusts, riding out our highs. Leaning down to latch his lips onto mine, our breath mixing.

Panting, we broke apart and he pulled out. Geralt collapsed on his back next to me as I rolled onto my side, watching his chest heave, shiny from a thin layer of sweat.

“That was…” he started, still trying to catch his breath.

“Desperately needed,” I finished for him, breathing just as heavily as my husband did.

It was true. It had been too long since we last done that. Not that we didn’t have sex while I had been pregnant, but once my belly was too big, Geralt didn’t dare to touch me that way, afraid he could hurt our unborn child. And now that Crevan was there, I was often too exhausted, already asleep before my face hit the pillow. Not to mention that our son slept in our room _and_ that Jaskier had still lived with us until we left him behind in Cintra. Intimacy was rare to come by.

So, the tension and frustration between us hadn’t only been there from what happened at the banquet; sexual frustration had been a big part of it. Sexual frustration that had just been solved.

Geralt held out an arm and I scooted over to him, laying my head in his broad chest, letting him wrap his arm around my waist. I let my fingers trace the scars on his chest and played with the soft curls of hair, my eyelids becoming heavier by the second.

“I didn’t hurt you, my love, did I?” my husband murmured after a while, worry lacing his voice.

I smiled, laying my hand flat on his chest, reassuringly. “Not too much,” I purred, “I missed that side of you.”

A chuckle broke from my throat, feeling our mixed juices dribble out of me onto the sheets. “But I think you have to get our son from the village. I probably won’t be able to walk for a week, let alone ride.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him,” Geralt joined in to my chuckle, prolonging it even when I yawned, nuzzling closer to him.

I was already asleep when he pulled the blanket over the both of us, pulling me further onto his chest, his hand cradling the back of my head.

“I love you,” he whispered to my deaf ears, but I smiled in my sleep, nuzzling my face into the soft curls on his chest.


	62. Peace, Fully Restored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idek what to say about this... writer's block hit, university work is becoming a little too much ... 
> 
> so this is all my tired mind could come up during the last few days. it has bickering, it has a couple talking about emotions, it has light dirty talk in front of a baby, it has fluff... a little bit of everything.
> 
> enjoy <3<3<3
> 
> love y'all and stay safe (at home!)

The bed was cold and empty when I woke up, but from downstairs, I heard Geralt speak in the soft voice that was reserved only for a very stressed Roach and our little fox. He had picked up Crevan while I had been asleep. I smiled and started to get out of bed. My feet carried me for exactly two steps before I fell to my knees with a thud.

“Ow,” I groaned.

The stairs creaked and moments later, my husband stood in the doorway, our son in one arm. He chuckled at how he found me: on the floor, still naked and on all fours, legs feeling like jelly. I shot him a glare and used the bedframe to pull me up, wrapping me in the bed sheets.

Geralt had a shit eating grin on his face. “You’re a mess,” he chuckled.

I roll my eyes. “Well, yeah. And whose fault is that?” Then I direct my eyes to our son, my glare dissolving. “You want to come to mummy?” I coo, holding out my arms.

An excited squeal leaves his little face and Geralt walks him over towards me, handing me our little fox.

“Are you hungry, little one?” I ask as he grabs at the sheets covering my breasts.

“Ana said she fed him shortly after sunrise,” Geralt answered instead for his son. He sat down next to me and I shoot him a questioning look.

“Sunrise? How late is it? And how long did I sleep?”

Another chuckle. “Yes, sunrise. It’s just past noon. And you’ve slept for as long as you needed. I noticed that you barely slept this past week so I didn’t want to wake you.” He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of my neck, an arms sliding around my waist so I couldn’t escape him as he sucked yet another mark on my pale skin. The scrape of his stubble contrasted deliciously with the softness of his lips on my tender skin and I wanted to moan so badly, but bit it back for the sake of Crevan. Even though he was too understand, he shouldn’t have witness this.

A strand of Geralt’s hair fell over his shoulder, right into Crevan’s reach and our fox grabbed it, proudly holding it in his tiny fist as he giggled. It caused my husband to pull back and I let out a sigh.

“Mhh, did you finally get a hold on daddy’s hair, dear?” I laughed down at our son. He shook his hand, tugging slightly at the witcher’s mane, making him lower his head a little, so the tugs would be empty.

“This is the only time I let you have it,” he growled playfully at the child, “Only your mother is allowed to do that.”

I was about the protest, but Crevan started whining, letting go of Geralt’s hair to tug on the sheets instead.

“Yeah, someone’s hungry,” I smiled down at the cranky child. Geralt let go of me so I could scoot back in bed, lean against the headboard. Once in a comfortable position, I pulled the sheets down, laying Crevan in my arms so he could drink. Hungrily, he latched on and drank. My husband gazed lovingly at the two of us.

“You’re right,” I mumbled.

“Hm?”

“About your Child of Surprise… It should be with its parents. I couldn’t stand the thought if you took this from the parents; if I made you do it. I’m sorry for the shit I’ve said, forgive me, but I was just so scared for our son, I still am. But I know that destiny will determine the time when to bring you two together.”

Geralt crawled up the bed and sat right next to me. He kissed my forehead and stared into my eyes intently.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, voice stern yet soft, “Everything you said is true. If anyone has to beg for forgiveness, it’s me. I shouldn’t have brought up the Great Cleansing. I know you still have nightmares of that day.”

“I… hoped you wouldn’t notice…” I admitted quietly.

“But I do,” he breathed, “In the way you squirm in my arms at night, how you toss and turn, and how you cry in your sleep. How you wake up in the morning, looking like you haven’t slept at all, but you put on that smile and go on with your day. My love, you don’t have to be strong all the time-”

“Yes, I have,” I interrupted him, “If I don’t ignore it, it’ll eat me up. The more I give in to the memory, the more it hurts. Even after all these years… it’s nothing I can get over, nothing I can forget, but I’d be damned if it took control over me. So, yes; I have to be strong. I can’t let it consume me. I have to be there; for you and for our son.”

Geralt’s arms were around me in a flash, pulling me close to him, mindful to support Crevan.

“And you are there for us,” he whispered soothingly against the side of my head. “Crevan is too young to understand; but I am here for you, too, my love. You’re not alone in this.”

I turned my head towards him, resting my forehead against his, closing my eyes and just breathing him in, his scent, the one I’ve grown familiar with over the last one and a half decades, calming my nerves in an instant.

“But I’m not the only one with nightmares,” I whispered, “If you don’t want me to deal with mine all on my own, then I don’t want you to deal with yours all alone. You also don’t have to be strong all the time, minne, leave that for when you have to go, hm?”

“You give a woman your heart and suddenly she wants you to lay out your soul,” he chuckled before turning serious again, “I promise. But there are still things I won’t share, even with you.”

“I know. But same for me, honestly. I love you,” was all I managed to get out before Crevan started crying, meaning he finished drinking and needed to be burped. I parted from my husband and pulled the sheet over my shoulder, patting Crevan’s back until he burped – the sheets needed to be changed anyway after what Geralt and I had done last night.

I handed the little fox to his father, balling the soiled sheet up and letting it drop to the floor, exposing my still naked body. Glancing down, I chuckled. I was covered in dark purple fingerprints and my hipbones were bruised from the edge of the chest.

“Hmm, I missed marking you like this,” Geralt smirked darkly.

“As if carrying your son wasn’t mark enough.”

He looked deep in thought. “It was, for a time. But soon enough, he’ll walk and then no one will see who you belong to. And we can’t have that, don’t we?”

“No, we can’t,” I agreed, chuckling, “But Crevan won’t walk for a while, so… right now there is no need for to look like to like this,” I teased.

Geralt smirked, got up and put Crevan in his crib. Then he turned and with a few quick movements, had me pinned underneath him, lips latched to the previously spared side of my throat.

I squealed and giggled, his stubble and the ends of his hair tickling my skin.

“So you don’t like it when I do this?” he challenged.

“Oh, gods! Yes, I love it,” I squealed.

Geralt pulled back to smirk at my heaving form. “Good, because I still need to practise,” he growled against my skin.

“But not now!” I protested, adding playfully, “Besides, there are other things you need to practise more.”

Geralt pulled back, cocking a brow at me. “Are you complaining about my performance?”

I glanced down at my marked skin, then met his eyes again. “There is nothing to complain about,” I smirked, “What I meant was how you fought at the banquet. You got old, minne,” I teased.

Ooh, I had hit a nerve. He sat up, his face an unreadable mask, until –

He let himself drop to his forearms again, his face hovering inches above mine.

“You think my fighting was bad?” his husky voice sounded through my ears, but all I could concentrate on were his eyes, twinkling like a gold coin in the candle light, a playful glint in them.

“I’ve seen you fight better,” my teasing continued.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to settle this?”

“That wouldn’t be fair. I can barely walk.”

“So you’re saying I still fight better than you?” he was the one teasing now.

“I didn’t say _that._ But you’re the one with almost your whole life of fighting. How long have you been travelling the Continent? 70 years? And how long did you train before? Another … about ten years? So… compared to my about twenty years of fighting, I’d say I’m the better fighter,” I challenge him.

“Oh? You really think so?”

“Hm-hmm,” I nodded.

Geralt puts his hands on the side of my face, as if trying to detect something.

“I think you need to cool down a little, love. How about a bath while Crevan is sleeping?”

I smiled at him. “Yeah, a bath would be great,” I whispered as I lifted my head to give him a kiss, “How about you go fetch some water then?”

“You can simply conjure it.”

“I know,” I shrugged, “But I’m not going to. Not until you admit that I’m the – looking at the time we’ve been training – better fighter.”

“Fine.”

“Hm?”

“You are the better fighter,” he grumbled quietly, not meeting my eyes, but he let them snap back to mine quickly, smirking, “But only because I’m a good teacher.”

I laugh as he picked me up and carried me towards the washroom, setting me down against the edge of the tub. Quickly, I conjured a steaming bath, putting in a few herbal oils to relax our sore muscles.

Soon enough we both settled into the warm water, my back resting against Geralt’s chest while he wrapped his arms around my waist. The peace was restored now and I let my head fall back against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re the better fighter,” I admit, but really, I had never believed otherwise, I just wanted to play with him a little.

“I know,” Geralt chuckled, holding me tighter.

“My brave warrior,” I hummed, “My White Wolf.”

“Only yours,” he whispered into my ear before dipping his head lower, sucking yet another mark to my skin. I squeal, but I can’t escape his embrace. “And you are mine, my love.”


	63. You're My Favourite Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from All Time Low's song 'Favourite Place'
> 
> A looooong, fluffy, happy family chapter   
> took me a week to finish, uni is taking all my time from writing :(
> 
> anyway... enjoy, love you all a lot <3<3<3

Crevan was four years old now and at the beginning of spring, Geralt thought it was a good idea to let our son ride Roach for the first time – under his watchful eyes of course and with him very, _very_ close by.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked the little fox, who wasn’t as little anymore, and very similar to his father now, becoming more and more like Geralt with every passing day.

“Yea, Mummy!” he exclaimed excitedly, shaking his little wooden sword that Geralt had made him through the air, “I wanna be like daddy.”

I crouched down in front of him, letting him jump on my back. “You’re a bit too young for that, little fox,” I laughed as I gave him a piggy-back ride outside, where Geralt was adjusting Roach’s saddle, securing the girth strap for the third time. I sat Crevan back on the ground and he handed me his sword, before running over to his father. Chuckling, I walked after him and into the stable, putting a harness on Shadow and leading her out, tying her to the fence before getting her brushes. I groomed her quickly, and put saddle and bridle on her.

“Can you have an eye on her for a moment?” I asked Geralt once I was done. He only nodded and turned back to our son, while I went back in the house, packing a bag with cups, a pitcher, plates and a cake I had baked the day before. We had planned a little surprise for Crevan: a picnic in the forest, by the stream. Since his birthday was in the deepest winter, we thought we could celebrate it now, kind of – not that we hadn’t celebrated on his birthday, but we still wanted him to have something special. Especially because Geralt had to leave soon.

When I came back out, I was met with the sight of two impatient men staring at the door, waiting for me. Geralt cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest when I exited and pulled to door shut behind me, using my magic to close the latch on the inside. I gave him a look that – I hope – said ‘there, locked it. Like back then’, to which he only smirked, shaking his head slightly.

“Mummy, hurry up!” Crevan giggled.

“And if I don’t?” I teased, laughing, as I leaned back against the door.

With the smirk on his face growing darker, Geralt started walking towards me. He took the bag from me and just when I thought he was about to turn, he lifted me up and put me over his shoulder, walking us back to our son and the horses. I laughed the whole way, squirming against my husband’s grip.

“Let me go,” I giggled.

“No,” he simply said, “You knew this was going to happen.”

Okay, I heard the smile in his voice. Not just a smile, a grin. He was grinning at Crevan while carrying me over to where our fox was standing. They had planned it. The way they had stood there when I came out. Geralt knew how I’d react. I laughed.

Finally, Geralt set me back to my feet and I glared playfully at him. He lifted his hands in surrender, pointing one at Crevan.

“His idea,” he chuckled.

“Oh no, don’t try that. I know it was you. I heard you, you know,” I chuckled, taking the bag from him and securing it to Shadow’s saddle. I turned back to my two men. “Ready?”

Crevan crossed his small arms over his chest, taking in the stance his father had when I exited our home, trying hard to cock his brow but failing. He looked adorable and I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t want to discourage him.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he remarked, trying to imitate Geralt’s signature growl, but ,again, failed.

This time, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I leaned down and flicked his nose, making him bury his face in his small hands. “I got something for your surprise,” I started, “but if you’re not interested, I can bring it back inside…”

“Noo,” he whined, grabbing onto my skirt as I pretended to turn and walk back to the door.

Roach blew her nose, impatiently, and only a few seconds later, Shadow did the same, causing Geralt to chuckle and me to laugh.

“Alright,” he said, picking Crevan up with ease and lifting him onto Roach’s back, “Let’s go.”

The little boy’s legs were way too short to reach the stirrups, so they were just dangling awkwardly at Roach’s side. It was adorable.

“Hold on to the pommel,” Geralt told our excited little fox, while taking hold of the reins. It was his first time alone on a horse after all, and that on his father’s beloved mare. Usually, Crevan would ride with me; I was simply smaller and had more free space in my saddle for our son to sit in front of me.

I have to confess, when roach started moving and Crevan swayed a little in the saddle, my heart stopped for a moment. I knew that Geralt was close enough to catch Crevan should he fall, but I couldn’t help the flash of fear that shot through my body; the fears of a mother. But Crevan held on to the pommel tightly, like his father had told him, and I released a baited breath of relief, leading Shadow to walk after my two men.

Crevan turned around, spotting me next to my mare.

“Mummy, you look so small,” he exclaimed.

I chuckled. “Well…”

But Geralt interrupted me, “That’s because your mummy is small. And in a few years, you’ll be taller than her –” Geralt turned to glance at me “– by far,” he added with a smirk.

“Hey!” I protested, giggling, because, who was I kidding, of course Crevan would grow up taller than me, possibly also taller than his father. Oh dear gods, the short jokes I would have to endure then!

We made our way along the forest seam, walking with the stream of the river, just that our son war unaware of that. Honestly, a perfect moment to test how much he had inherited of our senses; we still weren’t sure if a witcher’s mutations were inheritable.

“Crevan?” I asked, halting Shadow. Geralt noticed and stopped Roach.

“Yea, Mummy?” the little fox said, turning a little in the saddle to look at me.

“Close your eyes. What do you hear?” He shot me a questioning look. “Just do it,” I encouraged, smiling.

The look I received from my husband was a knowing one. The stream was far enough away that it was inaudible to human ears, but close enough for us to hear its gurgling loud and clear.

“What do you hear?” I asked again, in a whisper this time, throwing Shadow’s reins over her head, one look from me telling her to stand still, as I joined Geralt’s side, gazing up at our son. He concentrated, face scrunching up adorably as he listened to the sounds coming from the forest.

“Birds,” he said after a while, “And rustling, the wind in the leaves… and crunching… and, and something, uhh, kinda like splashing.”

A big smile stretched my lips as I turned to face Geralt. But he didn’t share my enthusiasm. And I understood why; as far as we knew, Crevan could be the first witcher who didn’t had to go through The Trails to become one, and Geralt feared that this fact would force our son into the life. I leaned against him, hugging his side and shook my head slightly when he gazed down at me. No, our son wouldn’t become a witcher, not if he didn’t choose it for himself – and that regardless of who his father was.

After a few moments of silence, Crevan opened his eyes again, peering down at Geralt and I, a questioning look on his face.

“Why, Mummy?” was all he asked.

“I just wanted to test your senses,” I answered honestly, moving back to Shadow, mounting her this time and steering her to walk next to Roach as we started moving again. Not long before I pulled to the left, entering the forest. I was steering directly towards the stream now.

“Where are we going?” Crevan piped up next to me.

I smiled over at him, “You’ll see.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you told you, right?” Geralt chuckled on Crevan’s other side.

“No,” the little fox muttered sadly, “You’re right.”

“Hey,” I frowned at him, “Cheer up, _weddin_ (translation: _kiddo_ ), we’re almost there.”

And just a few minutes after I said that, we reached the stream. We were walking upstream now, back into the direction of our house, only that it wasn’t our destination. After about another good ten minutes, we reached clearing with the waterfall and pond. I jumped off Shadow’s back and unfastened the bag. All the while, Geralt lifted Crevan off Roach’s back.

“There, now we’re there,” I smiled as I put the bag to the ground carefully.

Crevan looked around, stunned. “And what is this?”

I smiled, walking up to him and sit down in the tall, soft grass, motioning for him to do the same.

“This place is very special to your daddy and mummy.”

“Huh?”

“We used to come here a lot when your mummy was pregnant with you,” Geralt said, sitting down next to our son.

Not to mention, ahem, that this pond was where we made up after our first real fight – oh, no, wait! Don’t mention that.

Still, I smiled at the memory, getting lost in the sparkling of the sunlight in the clear water. How excited and worried Geralt had been back then. Looking back, as angry I had been at him that day, it was the moment I realized, he’d do anything to keep our son safe.

“Mummy?” a small voice ripped me from my trance.

“Mh?”

“You’ve been staring at the pond for the last five minutes,” Geralt chuckled, catching my gaze when I turned towards him, giving me a knowing look, a brow cocked. A slight blush crept up my cheeks and I bit my lip, nodding slightly.

Gods, I hope Crevan didn’t notice!

“Anyway,” I cleared my throat, “Who’s hungry?”

My son’s eyes sparkled like the pond in front of us at the prospect of food. With a chuckle, I shook my head. He was just like his father. And yes, part of me believes that all these years ago, Geralt stayed with me (and didn’t leave after I told him about my father) because I promised him food, and that he let me come with him because I could just conjure it. Well, of course that wasn’t the only reason, but I like to think that it was at least part of the reason.

The bag was quickly unloaded, the pitcher filled with cool water from the spring – not from the pond… for a reason – and the cake cut. Crevan happily dug in, smiling joyfully at the sweet taste of the delicious good he helped creating. Well, he had made more of a mess in the kitchen than being an actual help, but I wouldn’t take his fantasy from him.

“Hey,” Geralt spoke up after some time, “How about, the next time there’s a market in the village, we get you a foal?” he asked our son.

Crevan’s whole face lit up and he started to bounce with excitement, letting out a squeal. Answer enough. Still…

“My own horse?!”

“Hm-hmm.”

Yes, this was part of our surprise for him, his (very late) birthday present. The foal would grow with him and Geralt and I would train it, and by the time it would be old enough to be ridden, Crevan would be old enough to ride.

We stayed at the pond for the rest of the day, enjoying the warm spring weather, playing with Crevan, joking with him and listening to his plans for his horse. Geralt and I shared soft glances of adoration for our son, inwardly melting at his excitement.

I got up and grabbed the empty pitcher, stepping up to the waterfall to refill it. Only seconds later, I felt a presence – no, two people – behind me. Before I could step away from the pond, I fell forward, pushed by two pairs of hands, one large, the other tiny.

With a splash, I landed in the cold water, spluttering when I resurfaced. Wiping my wet hair out of my eyes, I was met with the sight of my two men laughing their arse off.

“Oh, yeah, very funny,” I growled at them, which only caused them to laugh harder. “Gods, sometimes I hate you,” I muttered under my breath, of course not meaning it, but at least they stopped laughing, Crevan wiping a few tears from his face.

“You love us,” Geralt beamed instead.

“And you can be lucky I do, because otherwise…” I threatened, creating a barrier behind them and pushing them forward, towards the edge of the pond.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.”

With a quick movement of my hand, I let Crevan out of the barrier and pushed Geralt towards me, making him fall into the pond with a splash. Crevan doubled over laughing as I smiled triumphantly at the witcher, who just came back up. He glared at me, making me join in to our son’s laughter.

“So, now it’s funny?” he growled, cocking his brow.

“It was funny to you when you pushed me, so why can’t I find it funny to push you in, hmm?” I counter, while Crevan was still in the grass, rolling around with laughter.

Underneath the water’s surface, he grabbed my waist, pulling me close to him, a mischievous smirk spreading on his face. I gaze into his eyes. There was no mirror of his smirk in them; they were soft, liquid honey. A sight that still took my breath away, even after almost two decades of being with him, _loving_ him.

Both of us leaned in, forgetting everything around us for a second as our lips brushed together in the softest way possible. But it wasn’t enough. I pressed myself closer to Geralt, kissing him with more demand, tongue caressing his lower lip, making him open his mouth for me to enter, to savour his taste. Just when I was about to lose myself into the kiss completely, a soft moan threatening to spill from my throat –

“Eww!” Crevan exclaimed.

We shot apart, eyes darting to our son, who was covering his eyes with his little hands. I started laughing and soon Geralt joined in – not fully laughing, but chuckling.

“Oh, be happy your parents love each other!” I teased the little fox, my laugh now diminished into a chuckle.

“That was gross,” Crevan protested, still hiding behind his hands, but I could see a little tint of red on his cheeks. He was embarrassed.

“You won’t think that when you’re older and are with a girl you like,” Geralt chuckled, climbing out of the water and helping me out as well. I gave him a quick peck to the lips before moving to where I had stood before I was pushed, lifting the pitcher off the ground.

“How about we get packed up?” I asked, “The sun is about to set and there’s a rabbit at home waiting to be eaten.”

Geralt had hunted yesterday. Well, he took a walk through the forest, scouting the way we went today, making sure there wasn’t anything in the way that could startle Roach, make her buck and throw off our son. He didn’t find any obstacles. What he did find though, was a wounded rabbit. He had brought it home with him – we didn’t show it to Crevan, for a good reason – and at first, I wanted to heal it, but all hope was lost for the poor thing, I had seen that the second Geralt brought it to me. Even though it would be an act of mercy, I couldn’t kill it, but Geralt did, skinned and gutted it, and put it in a pot in a cool place. We’d roast it today over the fire with some vegetables.

By the time the sun started to set, we packed up and mounted our horses, still dripping, Crevan hesitant to join either of us in our horses, but finally caved, letting me lift him onto Shadow’s back before riding off towards home in a quick trot.


	64. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaand what i can do in a few hours when inspiration hits...
> 
> enjoy <3<3<3

That night, I was woken up by a whisper. A whisper of a name. It came from my husband next to me _. Renfri_. He was repeating this name over and over, tossing and turning in his sleep. I contemplated if I should wake him or not, not knowing which was worse.

“Geralt,” I whispered.

No reaction. I whispered again. Still nothing. I put my hands on his cheeks, trying to hold at least his head still.

“Renfri.”

With this whisper, his eyes shot open and he grabbed my wrists, turning us around, pinning me down. I could see it in his eyes, even through the darkness: he was disoriented. He didn’t know where he was, who I was; at least not for a second. He had been _there_. _He had been in Blaviken_. At least in his mind.

“Geralt,” I whispered again. Something shifted in his eyes. _Realization_.

He let go of my wrists and slumped down to his side next to me, not daring to look at me as he whispered a rushed apology.

“Fuck, Nienna, I’m sorry,” he rasped, “Please, forgive me.”

Shaking my head and smiling sympathetically, I turned to face him, putting a gently hand on his jaw.

“There is nothing to forgive, minne. I probably shouldn’t have woken you up… You were there, were you? In Blaviken?”

His silence was answer enough, while his eyes told stories.

“You want to talk about it?”

Again, silence.

“You never told me about her… Renfri. You loved her, didn’t you?”

Now his expression became pained.

“I love you now, that’s all that matters,” he muttered dryly.

“I know you do, minne,” I whispered, kissing the corner of his lips, “But she still means something to you. Please tell me, maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.”

Geralt scoffed, but after a minute or two, he started talking. “It’s not that I dream about her… but about what she had said to me.”

I was silent, waiting for him to continue.

“’The girl in the woods will be with you always, she’s your destiny.’ At first I thought it was about you, but the dreams didn’t stop after we met. They didn’t stop when we met Triss in the woods. I have no idea what she meant by that and it’s driving me crazy every time I dream about it.”

I nodded. “Tell me about her. What did really happen?”

The pain in his eyes worsened and I caressed his cheek with the pad of my thumb.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Let me see it,” I soothed.

He nodded, but he didn’t look happy.And then I saw it.

 _He had arrived in Blaviken, the people there were hostile towards him the second he entered the tavern, only this girl, barely 18 had been nice to him_.

I understood why he was drawn to her from the beginning – even though he’d never admit it, my husband was like a lost puppy, ready to fall for everybody who showed him a little affection.

_A wizard wanted to hire him to kill a woman he believed to be a monster; Geralt refused. He met the girl from the tavern again, Renfri, and she told him what had happened to her, that she wanted to kill the old wizard, who was responsible for her fate. Geralt also refused her._

I felt that he felt sorry for her, that she had a choice not to be what was made out of her, to triumph over her abusers, but she didn’t see that choice, driven by revenge.

 _She came back later. They had slept together. She had predicted Geralt slaying people in town. He woke up the next morning, betrayed when he didn’t find her next to him, meaning_ _that she didn’t keep to her word and left the town, but went there to get revenge. Geralt followed her to town, but found her henchmen, those very men who had insulted him the day before. They attacked him. He only defended himself from them._

Sure, he could have simply knocked them out, but I also understood his rage in that moment.

_He mowed through them with fluent movements. And then he encountered Renfri. He pleaded with her to stop, to simply leave Blaviken and to never come back; that she could simply start a new life._

She was barely an adult for crying out loud!

_But she wouldn’t listen. She attacked him. And they fought, Geralt only defending himself, up to the point where he left her the choice to stop, to go away, but she didn’t, she attacked again, only armed with her dapper. Seconds later said dapper stuck in her throat. She whispered her last words to him. “The girl in the woods will be with you, always. She’s your destiny.”_

I could feel how much Geralt hated having to kill her and I felt bad – terrible even – to have him relive that day in such detail right now. I stroked his cheek, smiling reassuringly. I couldn’t really see him, my eyes staring right into his mind, but he could see me and I wanted him to see I was there for him.

_The old wizard came back, wanting to take Renfri’s body away for inspection, but Geralt threatened him to leave her alone. Even when he killed her, he still defended her. Her death had been her choice. He wizard then declared Geralt ‘the Butcher’. People started throwing stones and Geralt got on his knees, holding up the hand that held his sword to shield his head. A girl, whom Geralt had grown to like, stepped up to him and told him to leave Blaviken, and to never come back._

In that moment, I felt that something broke inside my husband.

“It wasn’t your fault, minne,” I whispered, focusing on his eyes again and not on what laid behind them.

Though there was still pain written all over his face – no, his whole body was tense – he scoffed dryly.

“I killed her, didn’t I?”

“She made that choice,” I argued softly, “It wasn’t you, not really, it was her. And those people, they are wrong too. You’re a good man, minne.”

Another scoff. “I killed these men.”

“Yes, in self-defence. With how many they were, they could have killed you if you had held back.”

He was silent for a while and so was I.

“Is that why you didn’t let me in at first?” I asked after some time, almost inaudible, like my love-confession all these years ago.

“Yes,” came his answer. And for a while nothing more. Then, “I just couldn’t. Witchers are supposed to be emotionless anyway, or at least it’s what humans believe, so why not give them the satisfaction to be right? All they saw in me was a cold blooded killer.”

“You’re more than that,” I interrupted him, “You always were.”

“I wasn’t. But I am thanks to you. You’ve made me more; you’ve given me more than I deserve, more than I have ever dreamt of: your love, a home, a _son._ ”

“You’re kidding right now, are you? _You_ are more than _I_ deserve. I grew up hiding, been called awful things my whole life – elves are like humans in that; they don’t like halfblooded bastards – and then a handsome man comes along and sweeps me off my feet, literally. The first person who was nice to me for ages saves me from a miserable life. It was you who has given me more than I ever hoped for: two people to love unconditionally.”

As if on cue, we heard the soft patter of small feet coming up the stairs. Our late-night conversation must have woken Crevan. He tapped into our bedroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“What is it, sweetie?” I asked him, holding out an arm to help him climb into bed.

“Can’t sleep,” he slurred.

I smiled as I helped him climb between Geralt and I, tucking him in. Geralt draped his arm over both of us, squishing us together, the three of us cuddled up.

“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. Soft snoring from in front of me told me Crevan was already asleep.

“I love you,” I returned, “More than anything.”

“I know.” I had my eyes closed, and Crevan’s head would be in the way anyway, so I couldn’t see him, but there was a smile in my husband’s voice that I couldn’t miss. “Otherwise you wouldn’t put up with me.”

“You can be a handful,” I chuckled quietly, “The two of you. My hair still isn’t fully dry.”

“Mine neither. Sleep now, my love.”

“Mhh, good night, minne,” I yawned and snuggled up closer to sleeping little Crevan, putting my arm over Geralt’s. the three of us slept the night though without more nightmares.


	65. Had To Let Him Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get your tissues ready, next chapter will be the big angst
> 
> this one already a little angsty, but not much
> 
> enjoy and please don't hate me after the next few chapters

But talking it out didn’t help against the dreams. At first it was like the night we first talked about it; Geralt would whisper her name over and over, growing louder until I woke him. He’d always pin me down, disoriented, and sometimes he’d even have a hand on my throat. It would only take him a second to realize where he was and who I was; that it had just been a dream, a repressed memory. But since it would happen every night, the damage soon became obvious. Bruises would cover my neck, his grip, even too short to make me choke, was tight. He’d apologize, beg for my forgiveness, but I’d only tell him that it was okay, hold him until both of us fell asleep. Or so I hoped, but he wouldn’t sleep.

It had been about a year of Geralt waking up in the middle of the night and suddenly it stopped. He wouldn’t talk in his sleep and I was relieved. That was until one night I woke up from my own nightmare, shaking, reaching out for my husband’s warmth to calm myself down, only to find the bed empty and cold. And when I opened my eyes to search him, I spotted the witcher, standing at the window, staring out into the night.

“Can’t sleep?” I mumbled, voice slurred by tiredness. 

“No,” he muttered, turning, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. Come back to bed, minne. Please.”

And he did. He lied down and wrapped his arms around me holding me tightly, protectively, knowing full well what had woken me if it hadn’t been him. he held me until a fell asleep and after that. What I didn’t realize then was that he wouldn’t sleep.

And his sleeplessness would continue. I’d fall asleep in his embrace and wake up to an empty bed, to see him pace along the wall. We had tried much. Sleep potions, magic, wearing him out with various exhausting physical activities, – for some we’d have to drop Crevan off at Ana’s, her daughter and our son were close friends, so luckily it didn’t bother them – but nothing worked. And he’d grow agitated, get annoyed with every small thing that didn’t go right on first try. Luckily he hadn’t yelled at us so far, but we both knew it would only be a matter of time, weather we liked it or not. And we knew it wouldn’t be good for Crevan if Geralt stayed. Even though he needed a father, a tired and annoyed one was about as good as none.

We had heard of a djinn hidden in a lake near Rinde, it’s magic would be so much stronger than mine. So I sent Geralt away, with a heavy heart, but also filled with hope.

So now the three of us were standing there, Roach waiting to be mounted and gallop away.

“I’ll come back as soon as I sorted this out,” Geralt promised, then dropped to one knee, lowering himself to Crevan’s level. He pulled our son in for a long hug then grabbed his shoulders and fixed him with his intense gaze. “Be good for your mum, will you?” Crevan nodded. With a smile, Geralt ruffled our son’s hair. “Good.”

Then he stood back up and pulled me towards him by my waist, resting his forehead against mine. I cupped his jaw in my small hands, caressing his cheeks softly with the pad of my thumb. There were no words needed between us to know how much we hated this, but he wouldn’t do it for himself, not for me, but for our son. This was necessary, we all knew this.

“Please take care of yourself. A djinn is nothing to mess with,” I breathed.

A small smile cracked on his face. “I’m also no one to mess with,” he mumbled. “I’ll be safe, I promise. Take good care of Crevan.”

“You know I will,” I chuckled, “I love you. Please hurry.”

“I will. I love you.” He leaned in to kiss me and I kissed back, savouring every second he was here. Still, the kiss was bittersweet.

Too soon, he pulled away, caressed my cheek one last time and ruffled through Crevan’s hair, before he turned and mounted Roach, and lead her north.

I didn’t know why, but it felt different from when he left for a job. I guessed it was the uncertainty of the outcome. On a hunt, we’d know that he’d kill the monster and come home with coin. This… we couldn’t know the outcome, the consequences of his wish. Would it even work at all?

Crevan and I stood outside and watched as Geralt disappeared behind the trees, the thunder of Roach’s hooves on the dirt road slowly fading. Only when it was completely silent except for the sounds of nature, I could tear my eyes off the spot where Geralt last had been.

“Come on, you want to help me bake some bread?” I asked Crevan after a moment.

“Uh-huh.”

“Then come on inside,” I smiled at him. Better, I kept my mind off whatever may happen with the djinn otherwise, I’d go crazy.

So we baked bread. In the following weeks we cooked much, Crevan helped me with my potions – the non-toxic only of course. We visited Ana and her daughter Ellina a lot, well, Crevan did while I ran errands in the village or visited patients.

Still it was hard not to worry about Geralt. He had barely slept for more than two years. I knew that his mutations kept his mind sharp and his body strong, but he still needed rest! And in the last two years I had felt helpless, trying to find a way for him to sleep, but nothing worked. It was my job to take care of him, just as it was his job to take care of me, and whereas he succeeded, I couldn’t help but think I failed. It made me feel miserable and guilty, and often _he_ had to hold _me_ at night as I cried myself to sleep, pleading him to forgive me, that I couldn’t help him; this made me feel even worse. And I hated that he felt he had to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault, because it was. I had all the knowledge about potions and magic, but couldn’t help him sleep! What use was I?

I had also asked Triss for help, but even the potion she had made hadn’t worked. It had made me feel even more desperate. I hated our situation, and I hated that a djinn was our last hope. A djinn of all creatures! We had no idea what the consequences would be. For all I knew about these twisted creatures, if he wished for sleep, it could be possible that he’d never wake up again, slept forever. I hated the idea with every fibre of my being, but it was our last hope. We had already tried everything and now all I could do was wait for Geralt to return.

So instead, I concentrated on Crevan, showed him how to take care of his horse. A year ago, we had bought him a foal, a pretty, white mare with a cute little brown snip on her snout. And he had named her Cod. What was it with my men and naming their horses after fish?! But Cod loved him, came up running to him and not leaving until he had cuddled her for at least five minutes. They were made for each other. And I trained her, got her used to wearing saddle and bridle. She was too young to be ridden yet, but she was already well behaved, so I thought getting her used to a person on her back wouldn’t be too hard.

That was how we spent our time until Geralt came back; cooking, training horses and meeting our friends.


	66. Forgive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title says it. i'm sorry, please dont hate me. i cried writing this
> 
> i wont say enjoy, because this is pure angst
> 
> please please dont hate me, they talked it out.

Five weeks. It took Geralt five weeks to return. Five long weeks.

I was in the kitchen, washing the breakfast dishes, when I heard Roach coming closer, but something wasn’t right. It wasn’t her usual thunder of galloping hooves; it was slower. They were only trotting. Something had happened!

As they drew closer, I heard Crevan drop his toys and run out the front door to greet his father. Smiling, but wary, I followed him outside. I spotted both of them at the stables; Geralt was ridding Roach of her saddle and bridle, smiling down at our son, who told him everything he had missed. But something was off; Geralt didn’t pay much attention, and though he must have felt my presence, he wouldn’t even glance at me.

Finally, he turned, after having brought Roach onto the paddock, but he didn’t meet my eyes. Crevan happily skipped past me into the house, certain his father would follow. I stood in the doorway, waiting for my husband to finally look at me, but he didn’t. Once he was within my reach, I lifted a hand to cup his jaw, but he turned his head away and walked past me. It was like a dagger to my heart. In the fraction of a second that I could see his eyes, I spotted it: guilt. Something had happened, something that made him feel so guilty that he couldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Minne?” I asked, eyes still directed outside. But no answer came. I turned, but didn’t find him anywhere. The creaking of the floor above me, though, told me he was upstairs, and a thud, that he was getting out of his armour.

I swallowed thickly and followed him. He had his back turned to the door, letting his armour drop to the floor carelessly.

“Geralt? What happened?” My voice was meek and shaking. His behaviour scared me a little. Why wouldn’t he talk to me? “Please, say something,” I begged.

He straightened up, his back still turned towards me, but for a while, didn’t say anything. Then: “Forgive me.” His voice was quiet, but still rough, hopelessness dropping from it.

“Wha-” I started, but was interrupted.

“Please, forgive me.”

“Geralt? What. Happened? Why won’t you look at me? Please, look at me.” Fear was tying my throat, tears rose in my eyes, my begging barely a whisper.

Finally, he turned, but he still didn’t meet my eyes, he was staring at his armour scattered on the ground. I stepped closer to him, tentatively so, because he looked like a scared deer, ready to jump if I made a fast movement. But he didn’t run, he just stood there until I reached him. I cupped his jaw, forcing him to meet my eyes.

He did for a second and all I could see in his eyes was guilt, like he was drowning in it. The next second, he ripped his head from my touch and stared out of the window.

“Geralt?” I asked for a third time, “What happened?”

“I…” he hesitated, “can’t tell you.”

“Wha-”

He turned his head suddenly, pained eyes staring into mine.

“But I can show you. But, Nienna, please forgive me.”

“What should I forgive you?” I was confused and scared. What had he done?

“Ju… just look. I don’t dare to say it.”

I lifted my hands to his cheeks, cupping them, and he flinched at my touch, scaring me more. And then I saw it, the pained eyes disappearing as I saw into the mind underneath.

_Geralt arrived at the lake, fishing for the djinn for days, changing the spot every few hours. Jaskier showed up, told him about his last relationship, which ended. Geralt was more annoyed than usual and snapped at the bard. Then he found the djinn. They fought over the amphora, Jaskier ripping it from Geralt’s hands while my husband held the cork. The djinn was free, and Jaskier thought he was its master. He made wishes, two, until Geralt stopped him. Geralt yelled that he just wanted peace and Jaskier doubled over, choking, as a lump started growing on his neck, blood pouring from his mouth._

Was Jaskier dead? Was that why he wouldn’t look at me, couldn’t tell me?

_He brought Jaskier to a healer, an elf, but he couldn’t help him. Instead, he told him to go to the next town, to find a mage, that the mage in Rinde was no good. But Jaskier’s condition was too bad to go to the other town, so they went to the one in Rinde. When they arrived, there was an orgy going on in the home of the mage. Geralt stepped up to the beautiful sorceress. She was flirting with him, but she agreed to help. She also offered Geralt a bath. He accepted and she joined. Jaskier was healing and Geralt started to trust the sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg. That was until he smelled something._

I smelled it too, through his memory. Lilac and gooseberries. But the scent was too sweet for me, and along with the dread that I felt, it made me sick.

_Geralt beat up some town officials, but he wasn’t quite himself; she was manipulating him. He was under her spell. He woke up in the dungeon, where he met the elven healer again. He filled him in about the things Geralt had done, and that they’d kill him for what he did. “That’s one way of getting some rest,” Geralt had said._

That hurt. He’d leave Crevan and me behind?

_A guard came in and beat Geralt, who was chained. He mocked my husband, asked him for his last words. “I want you to burst, you son of a whore.” And the guards head exploded. Geralt was the one with the wishes. He hurried back to Jaskier, finding him awake and threatened by Yennefer. She was trying to become the vessel for the djinn. Geralt helped Jaskier out of the house and went back in to safe the sorceress, telling the bard it was because she had saved his life. He made a last wish that somehow got rid of the djinn and Yennefer created a portal that saved them from falling rubble just as the first floor of the house collapsed. She was unconscious and Geralt woke her. They argued and then she kissed him, pushed him onto his back and fucked him. He didn’t do anything to stop her and when they were done, he fell asleep._

I shut my eyes and took a step back, tears welling up in my eyes as I shook my head in disbelieve. He hadn’t. No, I didn’t want to believe it! My mouth went dry and a lump formed in my throat. I took another step back and then another. Geralt’s eyes followed me, pained and guilty. He didn’t know what to do and neither did I. So I ran. Down the stairs and out of the door, ignoring Crevan’s worried calls – maybe I didn’t even hear them, but I didn’t want him to see me like this.

I ran, my feet carrying me along a path I knew by heart, a path I could walk with my eyes closed – luckily, because my vision was so blurred from tears that I couldn’t see. I collapsed at the pond, crying, screaming, wailing. My heart hurt. No, it didn’t hurt, it felt like it had been ripped out of my body.

How could he? Why did he? How did he have the nerve to come back here, to beg for forgiveness when he had done that? How could he even think that I would forgive him? And why did he sleep after he fucked _her_ , when he couldn’t sleep after he fucked _me_?

I didn’t want to see him, but I also wanted him to come after me, to check up on me, to prove he cared enough to see if I was alright – which of course I wasn’t!

But for a long time, I was alone. I cried until my head hurt, until my lungs hurt, until there were no tears left in me, until I passed out from pure exhaustion. My heart was broken and I had no idea how to fix it, not on my own.

** *GERALT’S POV* **

At dusk, I found her at the pond. I knew she’d come here. This place… it was important to her, special, more so than to me, and it always calmed her down. She felt safe here, and it was far away enough to fully give in to her feelings. I knew she didn’t want Crevan to see her now.

I picked her up, carrying her shaking, sleeping form back home and tucked her into bed. It was all I could do for her now. I hoped she’d see that when she woke up, that I hadn’t given up on us yet, and I hoped she hadn’t neither, but I would also understand it if she had. For a while, I stood above her, unsure what to do. She wouldn’t want me here after what I had done. If she wanted me to leave, at least I wanted to have one last look at her, to memorize her beautiful face. Though, I wouldn’t need to. It would haunt me in my dreams, a constant reminder of the dumbest mistake I ever made.

Fuck, I wish I hadn’t! I wish I had let her die. Even though she saved Jaskier’s life… if I lose the woman I love because of this _and_ my son, my everything, my life, I wouldn’t be able to live with that.

But I couldn’t leave her. And I won’t. Not until she tells me to. If she wanted me to go, she would have to send me away. I had to hear it from her and then I swore I’d never come back, but I had to hear it from her. I have to hear her say she didn’t want me anymore; even if those words would kill me.

She stirred and I quickly turned, wanting to spare her the sight of me, knowing it would hurt her just as much as it hurt me. But her soft voice, quiet words in Elder speech, stopped me from leaving the room. She only used the mother tongue when she was letting her emotions fully take control of her, her reason stepping back.

** *NIENNA’S POV* **

I felt his presence above me; I felt that he was staring down at me. And then he turned away and started to leave.

“ _N’te va_! (Don’t go!)” In my mind, I screamed it, but my voice was barely a whisper. He stopped and stood in the middle of the room, unsure what I’d do next. I had never seen him this insecure.

“I… I was going to get Crevan up here, so I could sleep in his room.” His voice was smaller than I had ever heard.

“No. I want you to stay here. I need you to stay here. If you go, you’ll only make it worse.”

That seemed to take him by surprise. He turned and took a slow step back to the bed.

“You really want me to stay?” he sounded like a little child; he also looked like one. Like a scared little boy, despite his broad form.

“I need to know why.”

He took another step towards the bed and I sat up, facing him.

“I don’t know why,” he confessed, “I just couldn’t… I couldn’t stop her. I had no control. She … I don’t know what she did, but when she climbed… I couldn’t push her off. I couldn’t want to push her off, as much as I wanted to…”

He fell to his knees, right at my feet, his head on my knees, burying his face in the blanket.

“Please forgive me,” he begged repeatedly, “I love you, only you.”

“Geralt, look at me,” I commanded softly, my hand on the side of his head. He obeyed. His eyes were glassy, filled with pain, guilt and fear. “I know you do. It was her spell. She had you under her control, there was nothing you could have done.”

“But I should have.”

“But you couldn’t.”

I pushed myself off the bed and dropped right in front of him, cradling his head, forcing him to look me in the eye. “I love you, minne. And would take a lot more than a stupid spell to get me to stop.”

I leaned in to kiss him, but it was only a small peck before I pulled back. It felt wrong.

“But I’ll need time.”

Geralt nodded and stood up, lifting me up with him and lied us down in bed, holding me close.

“I really don’t deserve you,” he mumbled into my hair, where he buried his head.

“I know,” I whispered. No arguing this time; if it weren’t for the fact that a spell was to blame, I would have told him to go, to never come back.

“I love you, and I am so, so sorry, my love.”

“Sorry won’t fix it, and I have already forgiven you. I just need some time,” I mumbled, “Now be quiet and hold me.”

And he did. He held me as I lied on his chest, playing with the thick, soft hair on it until I fell asleep. And for the first time in over two years, he slept too. The whole night through. At least all that had been good for one thing.


	67. It’s Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, university is eating all my time :(
> 
> anyway... here's the next chapter, hope you like it :D enjoy <3
> 
> also, now i know why i named her Nienna (after the Valar from the Silmarillion...): she's the Lady of Mercy. i think it kinda fits...

The next weeks were tense. I spent a lot of time alone brewing potions; Crevan wasn’t allowed in here when I brewed the potions for his father, since they were poisonous and Crevan was a curious little boy. It was my safe place; still surrounded by the people I loved, but secluded enough to have some time to myself. And I needed that. Though Geralt and I still slept entangled at night, having to face him in daylight was different. Every time I looked at him, his eyes were filled with regret and pain, and when he looked at me like that, it was hard to not think about what had happened with the sorceress. So he kept his distance, taking care of our son while I worked.

Sure, he had sworn that it would not happen again, but we couldn’t be certain about that. Her spell had still affected him after she let him go, so how could we know it wouldn’t linger for longer?

To be completely honest, I would have liked if he had left for a few weeks, so I would have time to really think, but he wanted to stay. He said that figuring this out was more important. At least he didn’t run and hide.

I was in my kitchen now, brewing the witcher’s potions. For the first time in weeks, I felt a presence in the doorway behind my back and I wanted to turn and tell Crevan to go away, that it was dangerous for him to be in here right now, when the heavy set of feet started moving again. A few seconds later, strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against a firm chest. Out of habit, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against my husband’s shoulder. I was enveloped in his earthy scent that made me feel more at home than these walls ever could.

“You don’t have to do this,” his deep voice rumbled through my ears, his chest vibrating against my back.

“I know,” I sighed, “but it keeps me sane.”

“Hmm.” And then it was silent for a while. From outside we heard Crevan fighting some imaginary monster – or maybe just the chickens. Neither of us said a word. Then –

“I… I don’t know what I can do,” Geralt broke the silence, “To get this… to get this right.”

I let out another deep sigh. “There is nothing you can do,” I started. It caught Geralt by surprise. So much, that I couldn’t finish before he loosened his grip around my waist and took a step backwards. But I quickly turned and gripped onto his forearms, pulling his hands back to rest on my hips. He looked at me, a mixture of confusion and sadness.

I shook my head a little. “It’s up to me now. You’ve already done enough, apologized enough. I just… every time I look at you, you give me the same look – yeah, this one – and I… I have forgiven you, minne. But I feel you haven’t forgiven yourself. Please, Geralt. You have to forgive yourself,” I was begging now, a hesitant hand cupping his jaw – touching him still felt weird somehow, _unfamiliar_. “Because every time you look at me with regret written all over you, all I can see is what you showed me. And it… it makes it harder to move on.”

He nuzzled into my touch, desperate for every little bit of affection I was able to show him. “My love, I have sworn to you I’d never hurt you, and now I did. So how can I not regret it when I see you suffering?”

“Just try, alright? Think about how lucky you are that I didn’t throw you out,” I chuckled, trying to cheer him up, but I meant it. He could count himself very lucky. I know that not every woman would let her husband stay if he had cheated on her, a spell involved or not.

“Very lucky indeed. But if I had been a little luckier, this wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“But it did, we can’t change that now.”

“Hmm.” And a nod.

Slowly, I slid my hand from his face down his chest onto his back, my other hand coming up to hug his waist. Geralt’s arms wrapped around me and I pressed myself against him, breathing him in. His scent – leather, grass, Roach and just a hint of my flowery soap – was _home_ and I knew I couldn’t live without it, not anymore.

“She really told you that you stink?” I chuckled after a short moment.

“She did.”

“Then she’s more stupid than I thought. I love your smell. Or… Roach’s smell,” I teased. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. And when I lifted my head to look at him, his eyes weren’t filled with regret. With a soft smile, I leaned up to him while he dipped his head down. Tentatively, I pressed my lips to his, for the first time after three weeks. It felt _right_ again. Still, he held back, letting me set the pace. Just when I wanted to swipe my tongue over Geralt’s bottom lip to deepen the kiss, we drove apart. A yelp came from outside, – no, it came from Crevan’s throat – then a soft thud.

Wide-eyed, we looked at each other before rushing outside. We found our son on the ground near the goat pen, his little wooden sword lying next to him in the grass. By the time we arrived, he was pushing a leg of his trousers over his knee. I dropped to the ground next to him, putting a hand on his cheek, frowning when I found it slightly tear-stained. Geralt kneeled down next to us.

“What happened?” he asked gently, taking in the scraped knee.

“I fell,” Crevan mumbled.

“Come here.” Geralt reached out and lifted our fox off the ground, carrying him inside and into my kitchen. He sat him down on the counter while I went to search for the right salve and a bandage. Once I found it, I came over to the two men.

“This will burn now, sweetie, but I need to do it,” I warned Crevan as I dipped a part of the bandage in warm water. Carefully, I cleaned the swallow wound, knitting my brows together as I heard my son hiss and grab onto his father’s hand tightly.

“And this will cool it now,” I smiled up at him encouragingly as I pulled the bloodied fabric away and spread some of the salve onto the scraped up knee. Then, I quickly bandaged it and pressed a kiss to the fabric. “All good,” I beamed, standing up and plant a kiss to the mob of chestnut curls on his head, causing Crevan to squeal and pull away. “Tomorrow, it will be gone.”

“And then we’ll work on your footwork, hm?” Geralt chuckled as he lifted Crevan off the counter and sat him back to his feet. The little fox’s eyes lit up at the prospect of training with his father and I smiled before my face dropped and I realized something.

I rushed over to the kettle, where the potion of banewart was still bubbling over the flame.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath as I stirred. The potion wasn’t as liquid as I should be, more like honey. It’s still work, just that my husband couldn’t just chug it. But trying to water it down would lessen the effect.

Geralt came over and spotted the sorry excuse of a potion “They will work just fine,” he chuckled.

With a sigh, I nodded. “Okay. Can the two of you lay the table while I fill this into the vials? There’s soup on the stove and fresh bread in the oven. Let’s just hope it didn’t burn as well.”

“Yeah, we’ll do it. And it didn’t burn; it would smell.”

Geralt pressed one last kiss to my cheek and left my kitchen, Crevan skipping in front of him. shaking my head at both our son’s behaviour and my own stupidity – regarding the potion – I lifted the kettle and poured the goo into the vials. Well, it was a little more liquid than I first thought – luckily. Still it was hard to clean the kettle, the walls heavily crusted with some burnt remains. I scrubbed and scrubbed and after ten minutes, it was finally clean. With a sigh, I sat the kettle down, put out the fire underneath it and joined Crevan and Geralt in the other kitchen.

I smiled when I spotted a small vase on the table, a few flowers from the field in front of our house in them.

“I should have the two of you doing this more often,” I chuckled when Crevan came up to me and hugged my legs. Ruffling his hair, I nodded to the vase. “Whose idea was that?”

“Mine!” Crevan squealed, proudly beaming up at me.

“He picked them when he went to get his sword,” Geralt chuckled, coming over to us.

“Just when I thought your father could be romantic,” I sighed, feigning disappointment as I crouched down to our son’s level, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you, sweetie. They are beautiful.”

With my head on Crevan’s shoulder, I glanced up at Geralt, who was smiling down warmly at us – no sign of regret on his face now. I mouthed him a ‘thank you’ and he nodded, before turning and taking the bread out of the oven. He cut it and put the slices on the table while I dished up the soup.

“So, Crevan,” I started once the three of us were seated, “Will you tell us about the monster you fought?”

With a spark in his eyes, he started telling us. “It was a dragon.”

“We don’t fight dragons,” Geralt interrupted.

“But, dad! It stole Cod!”

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to steal her. Least of all a dragon. They live far up in the north and are almost extinct; that’s why we don’t kill them,” I explained quickly, soothing the pouting little boy.

“Okay, mum,” he mumbled before starting to munch on a slice of bread.

Dinner went on smoothly. For the first time in three weeks, Geralt and I didn’t have to pretend that everything was fine between of us for the sake of Crevan. It still wasn’t, but we were getting there. Geralt was staring to forgive himself and that helped the both of us. He didn’t look at me with regret in his eyes, but love. Once dinner was over, Crevan rushed outside to feed the chickens and goats.

I watched him through the window with a smile while cleaning the dishes. Hands wrapped around my waist, just like earlier, and I leaned back against Geralt, wiping my soapy hands on my apron before putting them over his.

“He’s so much like you,” I murmured after a while of us watching our son.

“Hmm.”

“What Nenneke told me… what you were like when you were younger… he is exactly how I imagined you as a little boy.”

“I barely remember my life before The Trails, but seeing him play… it feels familiar.”

I turned my head to gaze up at my husband, seeing him watch our son with an absent smile on his face.

“He’ll have the life that was taken from us,” Geralt decided. I only nodded.

Then, without warning, he turned first me around and then both of us, backing me up against the table and lifting me up to sit on its surface, standing between my thighs that he pushed open. He crashed his lips on mine, using my gasp to slip his tongue into my mouth. I put my hands on his chest, balling my fists in the fabric of his tunic, but pushed him back. As much as I wanted this, images of what he had showed me flashed before my eyes and I just… I couldn’t.

“Geralt…” I whispered into the kiss, trying to get his attention.

Luckily, he pulled back once he noticed my resistance and leaned his forehead against mine.

“Sorry,” he rasped, “I just missed you so fucking much.”

“I know,” I breathed, sliding my hand up to cup his stubbled jaw, “I did too, but… let’s take it slow, mh?”

“Of course. Whatever you need, my love.”

He leaned up and pressed a kiss to my forehead before helping me off the table and joining Crevan outside to feed the horses. Smiling, I watched them both through the window. While Geralt was loading hay off the cart with a pitchfork, Crevan was taking an armful and carried it over to the crib, getting hay all over himself while doing so. I chuckled, drying off the last bowl.


	68. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the next chapter is chapter number 69, should i make it a smut chapter?? Just kidding... unless :)
> 
> enjoy this short little chapter <3<3<3  
> love you all and i hope you're all alright. <3<3
> 
> edit: since i want all of you to enjoy the story (the next chapter in particular) i kinda need a little feedback: next chapter smut or fluff? my set-up, as well as what i have of the chapter so far allows both... but i really need an answer, because otherwise, i can't write, since i don't know what to choose...

Just when I set the bowl back in its place, Crevan and Geralt returned inside. Chuckling, I picked the hay out of our son’s hair.

“We can’t have that end up all over you bed, can we?” I smiled when he rolled his eyes. Definitely like his father.

“Speaking of bed,” Geralt chuckled, gazing out of the window at the sunset before directing his eyes back to Crevan, “I think I can hear it call for you.”

“But I’m not tired!” the little fox whined.

“Bedtime is bedtime,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and cocking a brow.

“But…”

“No ‘but’s. Come on, off to bed you go,” Geralt commanded gently and Crevan huffed, but did as he was told. He went to his room and changed, while Geralt and I remained in the kitchen for a while.

“Just like you,” I whispered, smiling.

“Yeah?” Geralt asked with a cocked brow and playful smile, backing me up the table once again.

“Mh-mhh.” My bum hit the edge of the wooden surface yet Geralt continued walking towards me until our chests touched.

“How so?”

“Remember when we met?”

He nodded.

“I practically had to force you to sleep in my bed,” I reminded him. A smirk appeared on my husband’s face and he leaned in closer, whispering in my ear, lips brushing against the shell.

“Hmm. And you made up for your rudeness quite nicely.”

“Who said I was making up? Maybe, as a 120 year old virgin, who now had a very handsome stranger in her bed… who says I didn’t just seize the opportunity?”

“And then you stayed?” Geralt chuckled, raising a brow.

“What can I say? You’re addicting,” I shrugged, leaning up to give him a quick kiss before taking a step to the side and walking out of the kitchen towards Crevan’s room. Shaking his head, Geralt followed.

“How’s your knee, sweetie?” I asked our son as I sat down at the edge of his bed after tucking him in.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” he answered, “Thank you, mum.”

Smiling, I shook my head and put a hand on his cheek. “No need to thank me, sweetie. It’s my job as your mother as well as healer to take care of you.” I leaned down to plant a kiss to his forehead, making him scrunch up his face. Chuckling, I pulled back noticing Geralt sitting down on the chair next to the bed.

“Will you tell me a story about monsters, dad?” Crevan asked with wide, pleading eyes.

I got up and adjusted the blankets, pulling them up to Crevan’s chin, and leaned down to press one last kiss to the mob of wild curls on his head, whispering a ‘good night’ to him before walking out the room. In the doorway, I stopped.

“Don’t tell anything too scary.”

Geralt only smiled. “I wasn’t going to,” he assured, “And not anything too long either,” he added, now directed at our son, “It’s way past your bedtime, young man.”

I went up the stairs and into our bedroom, changing for the night while listening to the story Geralt told to our son.

“Want to hear how I saved a princess?”

There wasn’t an answer; Crevan was nodding. I chuckled and lied down in bed, covering myself with the blanket, just listening to Geralt talk downstairs.

“We were in Temeria. People there were disappearing during full moon. They were taken by a striga.”

“A cursed princess!” Crevan gasped.

“A cursed princess,” Geralt confirmed. I couldn’t see him, but I just knew that he was nodding, smiling proudly at our son – just because we’d rather not he joined our, or more Geralt’s life, didn’t mean we didn’t teach him about the monsters that walked the Continent.

Geralt continued, “But I wasn’t supposed to kill her. A sorceress named Triss – your mum’s friend – wanted me to save the girl. So, at night, I went inside the castle and waited for her to show herself.”

“Where was mum?”

“She was with Triss. Your mum was sick and Triss healed her. And strigas are very dangerous, so I didn’t want your mum with me; I wanted her save. So, when the striga showed up, she let out a screech that would keep you awake for days.”

He told our son how they fought, how at the first light of the next day, he locked himself in the crypt, so the striga couldn’t get in there and the curse could be broken. He told him how after the rooster called, he got out of the crypt to find a young girl covered in mud on the floor. That he wanted to check if she was okay and she attacked him out of fear. That she bit his neck, and that he could have died if I hadn’t been there sooner to tend to his injuries.

“Your mother saved me more often than I’d like to admit,” Geralt chuckled and I heard him get up from the chair. “Good night, son. Sweet dreams.”

Then his footsteps came up the stairs and into the bedroom. I sat up in bed when he entered, lighting the candles around the dark room with a wave of my hand.

“I didn’t realize you’d be still awake,” Geralt mumbled, following my outstretched arm and sitting at the edge of the bed. I inched closer to him and started massaging his shoulders. They were tense, like our last days had been. The load had been heavy on both of us, but I didn’t realize it would take a toll on his body as well as his mind. With a low groan he leaned into my touch, letting my fingers loosen the knots in his back.

“And miss the story you tell our son?” I chuckled. “How about a bath, hm?” I asked gently after a moment, picking a straw of hay out his hair, smiling to myself.

“Hmm,” he hummed deeply, “Sounds good to me.”

“Is he asleep?” I asked, crawling to sit next to him instead of behind him. Geralt shot me a questioning look, tilting his head slightly, but nodded.

Smiling, I got up and started towards the stairs and stopped after a few steps. I could sense his confusion behind my back and turned to face him, still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What? You’re not coming?” I smirked, cocking a brow at him.

“This isn’t the way to the bathroom,” Geralt commented, standing up.

“Hmm. It isn’t? Maybe I didn’t plan to bathe in the tub…”

Within two long strides, he was in front of me. “So then… what was your plan?” he growled huskily.

“I think you know…” I breathed.

“I’m not the one who can look inside your head.”

“And yet I know you know.”

Then, he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder. I had to suppress my giggle in order not to wake our sleeping son, as Geralt walked us down the stairs and out the door, setting me to the ground. Gazing up at him, I was caught in his intense stare, golden eyes fixed on me like those of a predator, his wolfish smirk a silent command: _run_!

And I took off.


	69. Moonbathed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, i'm still alive.  
> as promised, chapter 69, a smut chapter to fully resolve the tension between Geralt and Nienna.
> 
> I'm sorry you had to wait for so long, university is eating all my time and i barely have time to write. i hate that :(
> 
> anyway, enjoy this almost 5k chapter of pure smut. i wrote it as if it was their first time for a reason... because in a way it is...
> 
> love you all <3<3<3 hope you're save <3<3<3

The huge full moon lit my path as I weaved between the trees. While I ran, Geralt stalked after me, like a hunter, a wolf, waiting for the right moment to pounce. But the moment wouldn’t come soon; first, we’d have to get closer to the pond. The thrill was in the chase anyway; the uncertainty if he’d pounce now and throw me over his shoulder, or wait until the last moment to jump and throw me to the ground.

I jogged between the trees, holding on to one from time to time, to turn and look behind me, giggling quietly when Geralt stared back at me, a wide, predatory smirk on his face. Sometimes, he'd curl his lip and flash his fangs – yes, _fangs_. This would make me start running again. We both liked this game; it felt natural to him, a predator, and I loved to play the prey for my husband, knowing it was worth the reward later.

Too soon, the pond came into sight and I picked up my pace, hearing Geralt doing the same behind me. I was really running now, my feet hitting the ground below me in a fast manner. For a second, Geralt's footsteps stopped and I was about to wonder why he'd end the chase, already turning around, when I felt two strong arms wrap around me, turning my body fully towards him. He had pounced. Everything happened so fast. One moment I was running, the next I was in his arms, lying on top of him in the soft grass, my face hovering above his.

"Got you," he growled just before I leaned down to brush my lips against his. He sighed at the feel of my soft lips on his own; two months had been too long. The few kisses we shared today couldn't make up for that lost time.

I pulled back, studying his face, illuminated by the silver moonlight. It made his skin glow, the sharp edges of his cheek and jawbones even sharper, more defined, white hair, spayed out in the grass, shining like a silver halo around his head. He looked surreal, like a god, beaming in the silver light that seemed to come from inside him. He looked as if he was the moon itself that came down to the earth in a human form. His eyes, soft and loving, shone gold as their gaze fixed on me, studying me just as I did him.

"You're beautiful, my love," he breathed in a low rumble, "My goddess."

"I was just about to say the same about you, minne," I smiled down at him. "You're stunning. Like an old god," I whispered as I watched the light catch in the small scar on his right cheek, reaching up a hand to gently brush over it with my thumb, before lowering my head to give it a light kiss. Geralt's hand on my waist tightened, while the other slid up to neck, gently pushing me to nuzzle my head to the crook of his neck.

There, I breathed him in, his scent of leather, wood, grass and horse, sighing.

I knew what he wanted, why he had picked me up, why he had chased me here. I knew how badly he wanted it, too. And fuck, I wanted it too. I knew I said I'd need time, but it wouldn't change the fact that I also needed him, craved him. Just as much as he craved me. But he let me approach it in my pace, letting me go as slow as I needed.

I let my lips ghost over the sensitive skin of his throat, the short stubble scratching my tender skin. A deep hum vibrated through Geralt's chest into mine and into the air around us; his thumbs on my waist and back drawing invisible circles onto my skin through the thin fabric of my nightgown. My right hand slid from his arm up to his chest, right above his slowly beating heart. But it didn’t beat as slow as usual. It beat a little faster, barely noticeable if you didn’t know his heartbeat like I did. This was his heartbeat when he was nervous and excited, like when he held Crevan for the first time.

Slowly, my lips followed an invisible line along his jaw back up to his lips. Slowly, oh so very slowly, my lips claimed his, opening them slightly, teasing his lower lip with the tip of my tongue. I dared to tug on it with my teeth, very gently. Still, it elicited a low groan from him and his grip on my waist tightened as the hand on my neck slid up into my hair, tugging a little. It caused me to moan into the kiss before slipping my tongue into Geralt's mouth, exploring the familiar wet cavern, tasting the sweetness of the fruit we had for dessert, the ale he drank, and simply _him_.

Usually, he'd take control now – if he hadn't done it from the start. He’d roll us around so I would be trapped beneath him, with his heavy body hovering above me, reminding me once again of his strength. But today he left all control to me, letting me slide my tongue over his, only reacting to my urges for him to move, letting me lead the dance.

My hand slid up from his bicep to his neck, cupping his jaw in my small hand and I pulled back. Geralt’s eyes slowly fluttered open, mouth slightly agape, lips swollen – just as mine. He simply looked divine.

I let the pad of my thumb ghost over his bottom lip, watching as he pressed a tiny kiss to my digit. Geralt’s hand came up to my cheek and slowly guided me down to meet his lips once again, and I gave him what he wanted, letting my tongue dance with his once again, though shorter this time. Again, I pulled back to catch my breath, my nose nuzzling into his cheek, our breath mingling.

“What about that bath?” I panted in a whisper, my lips brushing against the stubble on Geralt’s jaw.

He didn’t answer, letting his actions speak – and no, bathing wasn’t what he was intending to do. He lifted the skirt of my nightgown, letting his hands slide up my thighs, making me tremble. His actions were slow and gentle, leaving the choice to me whether I wanted to stop or continue.

Letting out a shaky breath into his mouth, I let my hands sneak up to the back of his neck, slowly sitting up and urging him to follow me. My answer. I wanted this.

Once we both sat up straight, Geralt let his head dip down into the crook of my neck, slowly kissing up a trail from my collarbone up to my ear, making me release a shaky breath, something between a sigh and a moan. Only when he started to suck on my neck, my eyes snapped open, going wide as I pulled back as far as I could with Geralt still holding my head, his fingers now tangled in my hair, fingertips digging into my scalp.

“Don’t,” I breathed, “Crevan… He’ll see.” Another pant. “He’ll ask questions.”

Smouldering golden eyes peered down at me, the mischievous glint in them mirrored by a teasing smirk. “He won’t see it if you cover your neck with your hair, my love,” he growled before diving back in, sucking another mark even lower, where my hair wouldn’t be able to cover it.

So this was it? This was what remained of the thrill of being caught once you became parents?

“If he sees,” I gasped out, “You’re – You’re going to answer his questions.”

His only response was a deep hum as he marked my neck a third time, his hands travelling up my thighs to cup my bum, squeezing it lightly and pulling me flush against his chest. Now I could feel his heartbeat against my breast, and he could feel mine.

Slowly, I started rocking my hips in his lap, feeling his already hard length, trapped in his tight leather trousers, against my folds. I didn’t wear any underwear beneath my nightgown, and Geralt had lifted my skirt up to my hips, so my lower half was fully exposed, my juices creating a mess on his trousers.

I let my hands slide from the back of his neck to his front, leaning in to claim his soft lips as my fingers trailed down his front until they reached the buttons of his breeches. There, I hesitated for a moment, pulling back and swallowing thickly. Geralt noticed – how could he not? – and covered my hands with his, pushing them away from his groin.

My eyes met his, gentle and apological.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not ready yet,” he whispered in a comforting tone, but I could also hear slight disappointment in his voice – not directed at me though, but at him, that he had done something so bad that his wife was afraid of touching him.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Reopening them, I met his gaze again, determined.

“No, I am ready,” I spoke, but my voice wavered. “Just… take it slow.”

To that, Geralt let go of my hands and put one of his on my waist, the other at the back of my neck, sliding up a little to tangle his fingers in my hair, pulling my head towards him, lips meeting in a soft kiss. My hands returned to the fly of his trousers, slowly unbuttoning them, popping one button after the other until his cock sprung free into my hands; hot, pulsing and ready. I stroked him a few times until Geralt couldn’t take it anymore and pulled out of the kiss, ridding of his worn, black tunic before reaching for my nightgown, tugging on it until I lifted my arms for him to discard the garment on the grass next to us.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed once I was fully exposed to him, long brown hair cascading down my back in soft waves, milky skin glowing in the moonlight, “My beautiful, beautiful wife. My goddess.”

I leaned up to hide my slight blush, rising to my knees to tug the leather tie from his hair, leaving him space to rid himself of his trousers and boots. Kissing along his hairline, straying from my path to press my lips against the scar above his right brow and then back down his temple and cheek, again caressing the scar there, I lowered myself back to his lap, my lips now finally meeting his, hands resting on his shoulders.

He shifted, big hands steadying me behind my back, one between my shoulder blades, the other at the small of my back, as he leaned me backwards slowly, until the soft grass tickled my skin and he was now kneeling above me. My hands slid from his shoulders back into his hair, pulling him down towards me. He gladly complied, claiming my lips again, soft and gentle and slow, like I had asked from him. With the heat in my belly growing now, I wrapped my legs around Geralt’s waist, making him lower himself a little, so his lower half lied on top of mine, legs stretched out between my own, his cock pulsing against my inner thigh, eager to enter my waiting core.

That was when Geralt let his lips trail from my lips along my jaw and down my neck, leaving me gasping as he travelled even lower, his hands sliding up my ribs until they reach the underside of my breasts. He started kneading them, while his lips inched to join his hands ever so slowly. Breathy moans escaped my lips as my left peak was enveloped in a warm wetness, pebbling instantly at the light suction.

“Geralt!” I gasped.

His answer was a low hum as he switched to my other nipple, sucking on it, slightly scraping his teeth over my tender skin. Weakly, with a clouded brain, I lifted me head to peer at my husband. And what I saw made me drip onto the grass. His gorgeous face was scrunched up in pure indulgence, tongue lapping on my skin as if it was the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. When he felt my eyes on him, he opened his, gazing at me with his smouldering honey ones, darkened by desire.

I bit my lip at that sight. After more than two decades together, he could still make me lose my breath with just the look in his eyes.

“I need you,” I whispered breathlessly, trying to tug him towards me by his hair. Geralt lifted his head a little and I shuddered at the loss of contact. He took my hands and pulled them from his hair, laying them next to my body.

“Patience, my love,” he whispered in his deep voice, laced with love and lust, making me tremble, “Let me do this for you.”

Without waiting for any kind of answer, he lowered his head again, pressing his lips against my nipple one last time before leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses down my stomach. Heat pooled even stronger in my belly, the ache between my thighs growing.

“Hmm, my love,” Geralt groaned as he lifted his head again, only inches away from my mound. “You’re so wet. You already were when you started running, weren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Fuck, you smell so sweet. And you taste even sweeter. It’s intoxicating.”

I mewled at his words, way past the point of speaking – and all he had kiss me.

“Minne, please.” It was more a whine than anything else.

“Shh, my love,” he cooed, “Let me take care of you.”

With that, he lowered his head, parting my thighs wider for him, hooking them over his shoulders. One finger slid though my – until now – neglected folds, opening them to him. Closing his eyes, Geralt took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of my essence.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath and peered up at me again, meeting my eyes over my heaving chest. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

I couldn’t speak. I simply couldn’t. My brain was clouded from the need for him, and his words didn’t help. But I _needed_ him. So I did the only thing I could do. With a desperate whine, I rolled my hips up at him, urging him to bury his face between my legs.

And finally, with a low chuckle, he did, his tongue licking a broad stripe along my slit, opening me up to him. A strangled moan left my lungs and my hands shot up to tangle in his hair. Geralt groaned when he felt me tugging at his strands – or maybe he was groaning at the taste of me. Either way, the vibrations the sound created set my skin on fire, his tongue lapping and sucking at my folds. But it wasn’t enough. I needed _more_.

“Minne,” I whined and finally, Geralt paid attention to my aching clit, licking it slowly and lightly with the very tip of his tongue. His right arm lifted, stretched out towards me, fingers against my lips, asking for entrance. I opened my mouth and he pushed his fingers in, watching with fascination as I sucked on his digits, while I watched him suck on my clit, eyes struggling to stay open. My tongue swirled around his long fingers, getting them nice and wet, tasting the grass he had fisted on his skin.

With a wet pop, Geralt pulled his hand away and brought it to my entrance, pushing one finger in slowly. Eyes fixed on my face he watched my reaction. And fuck! I threw my head back, mouth hanging open. And when he started curling his finger, pushing in and out of me, I was about to lose it, clenching tightly around him. Geralt increased to suction on my clit, letting his tongue roll over it in a slow but demanding pace, and added another finger to my core, stroking _that_ spot right on. I had no control over my body, my fists in his hair tugging him closer to me, my hips bucking up, almost riding his face at this point, head thrown back, moaning loudly in a manner you’d hear outside of a brothel. Geralt even had to bring up his free hand to pin my hips back to the soft ground.

“I – ah – I’m… Geralt… ah. Don’t… stop,” was all I managed to get out between moans. And my pleas were answered. Not only did Geralt not stop, he increased the pace of his fingers, letting his tongue roll over my nub with slightly more pressure.

Fuck! It was addicting. It was intoxicating. It was heaven.

I clenched hard around him, the pit in my belly blazing, threatening to explode. Geralt felt that. He probably could taste it too.

“Let go, my love,” he commanded, his mouth still on my swollen nub, “Let go. Cum for me, my goddess.”

And I did, his words pushing me over the edge, into the abyss of pure euphoria. My whole body spasmed, vision going white with pleasure as I watched universes explode behind my eyelids.

I barely felt Geralt working me through my orgasm with his fingers, prolonging my high. He watched me writhe for him, the evidence of my pleasure glistening on his god-like face.

Weak and slightly drowsy from that mind-blowing peak, I opened my eyes, panting heavily. Geralt had lied down next to me, watching me as I came back to reality with a fond smile on his face, the pulsing ache between his legs tuned out. I rolled over on my side, hooking a leg over his, pressing myself as close to him as I possibly could, hands reaching out for his face to pull him in for a kiss. I could taste myself on him, making me moan softly into his mouth. Letting his tongue slide over my bottom lip, demanding entrance, which I willingly gave, Geralt rolled us back around, hovering above me.

“Are you really sure you’re ready to do this, my love,” he asked, face serious as he pulled back to meet my eyes, “Because if we start this, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Geralt,” I smiled at him reassuringly, cupping his jaw with both of my hands, “I am sure. I am ready. I need you. And I would never want you to stop.”

I pulled his face down to mine again, planting my lips firmly against his as I let one of my hands travel down his chiselled chest and stomach, marvelling at its firmness until my fingers wrapped around their destination. Using my legs to push him down, I stroked Geralt a few times, feeling him grow beneath my small hand, pulsing, twitching and hot. Geralt batted my hand away playfully and guided himself to my opening, swiping the tip of his cock up and down my folds a few times, flicking my clit, teasing. I groaned into the kiss, half from the sensation, half from frustration.

Finally, Geralt started to push in, impaling me with his thick length, spitting me open to fit his need. I let out a deep, desperate moan, mingling with his deep groan as he filled me. When he was about half way in, he paused, letting me adjust to his size. Panting, we broke the kiss, resting our foreheads together as our rapid breath mixed.

“Shit!” I hissed at the intense stretch, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Are you alright, my love? Do I hurt you?” Geralt asked worriedly, ready to pull out should I ask him to.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt more than all the other times,” I panted slightly, “It’s just been a while and you’re so fucking big. You… you can move now, though.”

Geralt captured my lips again to muffle our moans and groans, pulling out a little before pushing further in very, very slowly. The stretch burned, but the pain felt good somehow. Feeling it again reminded me that everything was solved between us, that there was nothing separating us – quite literally.

“Fuck!” Geralt was the one to hiss now, halting his movements once again, “You’re so fucking tight. You have to relax, love. Otherwise I won’t fit.”

I let out a strained chuckle, “I am relaxed, minne. Just… just push in. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

For emphasis, I pulled his head down for a deep kiss, the heels of my feet digging into his rear to urge him to thrust into me. And when he finally did, bottoming out, I let out a cry into his mouth. Tears I didn’t even notice collecting, spilling from my eyes. Feeling the slight wetness against his cheek, Geralt pulled back, eyeing me worriedly.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him even before he could ask, “Just give me a moment.”

Geralt nodded and dipped his head back down to plant a firm kiss to my forehead before peppering my whole face with butterfly kisses, kissing away my tears. I giggled a little at that, his stubble and the ends of his long, white mane tickling my skin.

The stinging in my core ebbed away after about a minute; Geralt’s gently care making it seem way less. Reaching up, I cupped his jaw and guided his lips back to mine as I rolled my hips into his. He balanced himself on his right elbow, his hand underneath my head. With his left, he pinned my hips to the soft ground.

Geralt pulled out slowly, leaving only the head in, and then thrust back in, just as slowly, letting me feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his hardness. I let out a deep sigh, feeling so full of him, his scent in my nose, his skin on mine, his breath mingling with my own; I finally felt complete again.

Pulling out of the kiss, Geralt nipped along my jaw down to my neck, whispering ‘I love you’s against my sensitive skin as he ground his hips into me in a deep, slow rhythm.

I couldn’t understand how he was still able form words. I was a gasping, moaning mess beneath him, one hand clinging onto his hair, the other clutching the grass around us in an attempt to ground myself. The sensations he stroked awake in me where indescribable; flames licked on my body, all while he made me shiver all over. The slow strokes of his cock, deep inside me, stimulating my every nerve, started a fire in my belly and I clenched around him, trying to get him even deeper inside of me.

Geralt’s low groans and grunts were like music to my ears, a sensual song that guided me towards the edge, slowly but securely. But even though it all felt heavenly, it wasn’t enough, the slow pace drove me insane, the bliss of release approaching and slipping out of reach at the same time. And by the way Geralt’s hips stuttered I could tell that he was struggling to keep it slow, too.

“Minne,” I gasped out, barely finding enough breath within me to get out the words, “Faster. Please.”

And he didn’t need to be asked twice. Geralt’s grip on my hair tightened slightly, pulling my head back a little for him to have more access to my throat. He left tiny love bites and other marks on my skin as he increased the pace of his hips, not grinding anymore but thrusting.

I whined a little when he pulled out at first, suddenly feeling empty, bereft of the hot fullness, the feeling of being complete. My whine quickly turned into a gasp, though, when he pushed back in roughly. _Yes, yes, yes_ , my mind screamed. With a tiny shift in position, Geralt was not hitting _that_ spot inside me spot on, making me clench tightly around him. So tight, it almost obstructed his movements.

“Shit,” he grunted above me, putting more strength to his thrusts, making my hand that was clenching the grass fly down to his forearm, my nails digging into the skin.

The rushing and bubbling of the waterfall by now did nothing to cover the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin and our desperate moans and groans. And honestly, I didn’t care. My mind was fully focused on Geralt’s body on – and in – mine. Everything else didn’t matter right now.

“Fuck,” I gasped between moans, “Don’t… you… fucking… stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Geralt grunted next to my ear, sucking on the soft skin right underneath as he picked up his pace once more, drilling into me while holding me down. So much for taking it slow; but I – we – needed that.

The coil in my belly was burning, sending liquid fire through my veins. I could already feel my muscles start to stiffen, could taste my high. My fingers clutched on close to whatever part of Geralt they were holding on to – my hazy brain couldn’t even tell where I had my hands at this point. Waves of ecstasy started to lick, waiting for the right moment to break free.

My moans rose in pitch, becoming louder, while Geralt’s groans deepened.

“I feel you’re close, my love,” he growled into my ear, “Let go. Cum for me, my goddess.”

And his words did it for me. For a second time this night, I fell over the edge of pure bliss with a strangled cry of my husband’s name. Sparks of hot white pleasure shot from my core through my whole body, setting my skin, my whole being, ablaze.

As my mind cleared slightly, I felt Geralt twitch within me as he fucked me hard through my high, chasing his own release.

“Fill me, minne,” I panted, jolting with his movements. “Give me everything you have.”

My words were his undoing. With a deep, almost animalistic roar, he spilled his hot seed inside me, slowing his thrusts to prolong our high, coating my walls, leaving an invisible mark on me for only us to remember.

After a few sloppy thrusts, Geralt collapsed onto his forearms, releasing my hip as his lips trailed from my neck to my own, giving me a kiss that was more exchanging our breath than anything else. When he pulled back, he gazed into my eyes, hooded with satisfaction and pure adoration.

“I could stay with you like this forever,” he mumbled.

I returned his gaze, peering up at him lovingly, putting my small hand on his jaw. “I know,” I chuckled, “But we can’t. What if Crevan caught us like this?”

A low, rumbling laughter escaped my husband’s throat. “Hmm, maybe you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to steal every moment we have together to show you how much I love you.”

“Hmm, Witcher,” I hummed teasingly, “Are you growing soft?”

Before he could answer though, I was caught in a small fit of laughter. He was indeed growing soft… within me.

“Very funny,” he chuckled, trying his best to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t fool me. he was smiling, but he tried to hide it from me by rolling off me, pulling out of me in the process, leaving me feeling empty and cold. I whined a little at the loos of him, rolling to my side to cuddle against him, basking in his warmth as the air grew chilly around us.

“Still want to take that bath?” I asked, my finger following the natural swirl of his chest hair, caressing each scar I came across.

“Hmm,” a low rumble came from Geralt, “Back home. The water here is too cold for you, you’ll freeze.”

“And still you chased me here?”

“Well, I knew what you were up to.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Hmm.”

With a chuckle, I watched him get up and collect our clothes. He threw me his tunic, slipping into his trousers. Then he pulled me to my feet and handed me his boots and my nightgown.

“Huh?” I look down at the clothes in my hand in confusion, a quiet squeal leaving my lips when he picked me up, an arm hooked under my knees, the other supporting my upper back. Quickly, I wrap my arms around Geralt’s neck, his boots and my dress lying on my stomach as he carried me back home, stealing tiny kisses every now and then.

He carried me all the way into our bedroom. I had dozed off by then, but when he set me down on the bed, I woke up.

“We’ll bathe tomorrow,” he informed me softly.

“What? No…” I mumble sleepily, making my husband chuckle.

“You can barely stay awake, how will you be able to summon a bath, hm?”

My answer was a yawn. He was right, I couldn’t. All I wanted to do now was cuddle up with him and sleep.

“Thought so,” Geralt chuckled and started lifting his tunic off my body before gently pushing me to lie down and tucking me in. Smiling, I shook my head as I watched him blow out the candles around the room. The moonlight seeped through the windows now as he walked around the bed. Lying down, he pulled me against his chest, his warmth seeping into my, making me hum.

“Thank you, minne,” I whispered.

“Always,” he mumbled back, “Good night, my love.”

“Good night.”

I fell asleep in his arms, my head resting over his slowly beating heart. Good gods, I hope Crevan won’t ask questions about my neck tomorrow, or the fact that I will be walking funny for at least three days… But it was worth it. With a smile on my face, I fell asleep in my husband’s arms, finally all tension gone from between us.


	70. A BakingWitcher?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have this fluffy little family time.
> 
> i hope y'all like it :)
> 
> love you all and stay safe <3<3<3

The next morning, I woke up entangled in Geralt’s arms, my back against his front as he peppered tiny butterfly kisses all over my shoulder. Slowly, I opened my eyes to be blinded by the golden light of the rising sun flooding through the windows.

“No,” I groaned, burying my face into my husband’s arm as it wrapped around me, hand resting right under my armpit, “It’s too early.”

“I know,” Geralt mumbled, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, “But we both smell like sex, and we don’t want Crevan to ask more questions than necessary.” He chuckled at the end.

I sighed. He was right. But I didn’t want to start the day just yet, still exhausted from our nightly activities. So I did the only reasonable thing: I snuggled back against Geralt, making him chuckle as I tried to fall back asleep. But the deep rumble in his chest kept me from doing so.

“How about you wake up just enough to conjure a nice hot bath for us, and then you can sleep in there? Hmm, how does that sound?” he suggested.

Lifting my head a little, I turned just enough to meet his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Yeah. Sounds good,” I admitted in a slur.

“Hmm.” The sound, his signature hum, was one of victory. I smiled a little at that, but my smile soon turned into a frown when he pulled his arms from around me, getting out of bed, leaving me freezing, deprived of his heat.

“Carry me?” I asked, eyes big and innocent as he turned around, halfway the bathroom, when he didn’t hear me getting out of bed.

“You’re acting childish, my love, you do know that, do you?” he chuckled as he walked back to the bed.

“You said you’d pamper me!” I whisper-shouted exhilarated, wrapping my arms around his neck as he leaned down to lift me out of the crumpled sheets, “Also, I probably can’t walk anyway after what you did to me last night.”

“You wanted that,” Geralt smirked down at me.

“I know, but still!”

“You’re acting childish, my love.”

“Shut up. I’m tired.”

Laughter rumbled through Geralt’s chest as he sat me down on the edge of the bathtub, holding me by the waist as I conjured a steaming bath for the two of us. He handed me a bottle of oil from the stool next to tub. Smiling, I uncorked the bottle, lifting it to my nose.

“Mhh, wild rose. You know how to treat a lady,” I winked.

Geralt shrugged, smirking down at me. “Well… I had plenty of time to practice before we met,” he teased.

“Arse,” I mumbled as I poured some of the oil into the water, the sweet smell filling my nose, making me sigh and close my eyes. As lost in the moment as I was, I shrieked when Geralt lifted me up again and into the tub. He chuckled at my shocked expression while ridding himself of his linen trousers – he rarely wore the leather ones at home, they were part of his armour.

He climbed in behind me, wrapping me in his arms and pulled me down with him as he leaned back. With a satisfied hum, I snuggled in closer into the embrace of his big strong arms, breathing in the sweet fume that hang heavy in the air. It didn’t take long for long for the dormant tiredness in my body to rise again, not that I was wrapped in warmth that smelled like two of my favourite things: wild roses that so rarely saw let alone smelled, and, more importantly, my amazing husband. With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes, my head falling back against Geralt’s chest, his strong heartbeat right next to my ear. Not long before I fell asleep.

When I woke up again, I was laying in our bed, wrapped in the sheets, my damp hair in a thick braid. From the kitchen, the clattering of two men preparing breakfast was heard. I didn’t even want to know what the room currently looked like.

On wobbly legs – still from the night before – I got out of bed and walked over to the chest that held Geralt and my clothes opening the heavily lid. The hinges groaned as I pushed the smooth wooden lid up, reaching inside to retrieve a dress that would hopefully cover most of the marks Geralt had left all over my neck and chest.

Dear gods, please, _please,_ I beg of you, keep Crevan from asking questions!

Though, I know, praying didn’t help. He’d ask.

With the dress in hand, I made my way to the bathroom, inspecting the damage on my neck in the small mirror. “Just cover them with your hair,” Geralt had said. Well, I knew my hair was long and thick, but it could never cover the red and purple bruises he had left all over my skin.

That was when I heard footsteps behind me. His footsteps. I turned.

“I told you not to do it,” I muttered, referring to the marks on my neck.

Geralt had the audacity to shrug, smirking down at me as he stepped closer, putting his hands on my cheeks.

“You didn’t complain much after the first one.”

“How am I supposed to cover them? Hm?”

Again, he shrugged. “I’ll answer his questions.” Was all he said, still smirking.

“Yeah? And tell him what, exactly?”

Geralt’s hands slipped from my cheeks to my shoulders, giving them a calming squeeze. “That his father loves his mother so much, he has to make everybody see that she belongs to him, so that no other man would even think about trying to steal her from him,” he answered finally, dipping his head down to capture my lips with his, kissing me softly, sweetly, making me melt against him.

But after a short moment, I pulled back, sighing and lowering my gaze to the garment clutched in my hands.

“It is not you who is worried about stealing you from me,” I mumbled.

Geralt let out a deep breath, raising his hand to lift my chin, gently forcing me to look at him. “Nienna,” he sighed, but before he could say anything else, I spoke again.

“Who says that the next time you see her, it won’t happen again? Her spell lingers…”

“It won’t. I promise. I’m yours and _only_ yours. And I will not let it happen again,” he interrupted.

“You don’t know that,” I sighed, “This is a thing you can’t control. Her spell will force you to do everything she wants.”

Lowered my eyes and his hand left my chin.

“I can and will. There must be a way. A way to get that fucking spell to stop working.”

“There isn’t,” I mumbled, “I asked Triss.”

“You told her about that?”

“I was desperate! Besides… Jaskier saw you!” My chest heaved as I let myself fall against him, Geralt catching me in his arms. “I’m just so scared of losing you,” I mumbled into the worn tunic.

“You won’t.” He kissed the top of my head before pulling back, lifting my chin with his thumb and index finger. “You won’t,” Geralt repeated, his intense stare fixed on my eyes, desperate to convince me of something that neither of us had influence on. But I nodded.

“I love you,” he said, stepping back a little to take in my full, bare appearance. He smirked at the sight of the dark marks on my neck, the purple fingerprints on my hip. “And I love what you let me do to you. Now, get dressed. Crevan did something for you and I have to go back down so he doesn’t burn the house,” he ended with a chuckle.

Geralt left and I slipped the dress over my head, tying the strings and rearranging my hair in a way that would cover most of my bruised neck. Then I joined my men in the kitchen, finding the table laid like last night. The rest of the kitchen, however, was a mess.

“What’s going on in here?” I asked in a chuckle.

Crevan whirled around, his face covered in flour. “Mummy!” he exclaimed, rushing over to me and hugging my legs, his head bumping against my bruised hip and I tried my best not to wince.

“Morning, little fox,” I smiled down at him, shrugging off the soreness. “Now, what were you two doing in here that created this mess?”

“We’re baking you a cake,” my son stated proudly, putting his hands on his hips. I chuckled, brushing the flour off his face, making him scrunch up his face adorably, before continuing to pat the white powder off his clothes.

“And how do you know how to bake one?” I asked, ruffling Crevan’s hair, flour dusting his clothes again. It was pointless, trying to get him clean. He was just like his father in that matter; sooner more than later he’d be covered in some kind of dirt, whether it was simply some grass from in front of our house, or the blood and guts of his last monster. And Crevan was the same – well apart from the fact that he didn’t kill monsters.

“Daddy found it in one of your books.”

“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who simply shrugged.

“Uh-huh!” the little boy nodded excitedly, jumping up and down a little.

“And it should be done now,” Geralt spoke up, already opening the oven, reaching inside with a few rags covering his hands.

A sweet smell filled the air and I ruffled Crevan’s hair again.

“Oh, this smells amazing, you two,” I praised them, peering at the perfectly baked good on the table. If I was completely honest, considering how the kitchen looked, I had expected it to end up burnt. I was impressed to say the least. “But there is a little thing you got wrong,” I chuckled.

Our son’s eyes went wide, staring at me with panic, almost. I put a reassuring hand on his cheek. Geralt stared at me, mostly confused. Did he – still a man that was made for one purpose, to kill – not bake the perfect cake with his son on first try? Well, he did; only that it wasn’t cake.

“The recipe isn’t for cake. It’s a sweet bread, how my mother used to make it,” I smile at the memory of how she’d make it on the rare occasion when my father visited, “Which makes it even better. And it tastes best when it’s warm.”

I led Crevan to sit at the table before I turned, grabbed a bowl and disappeared from the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I heard him call after me.

“Just trust me,” I called my reply.

A few minutes later, I reappeared with a bowl of fresh, ripe berries, picked from our garden. I quickly washed them and put the bowl on the table. Struggling to reach the pot of honey, I felt Geralt coming up behind me, lifting his arm and reaching the jar with ease. It was, alongside with our swords, especially Geralt’s silver blade, our most valuable possession. When I turned, he smirked down at me.

“My tiny, little fairy,” he murmured.

“That’s why I have you,” I smiled up at him before gently pushing him to return to his seat, finally sitting down myself. I grabbed the breadknife and started cutting the soft bread, steam rising from the slices that fell to the cutting board, filling the air with a rich, sweet scent, making me hum.

“Mhh, the last time I smelled that was over seventy years ago, before-” but I stopped myself. I didn’t want Crevan to know about the Great Cleansing just yet. He was way too young to learn about the horrors of the world. I couldn’t stop him from asking his father about his adventures, but I sure as hell would keep him from learning about what humans are able to do to people they think are worth less than they are. I wanted my son to be open to the world; to have an open mind towards the world, not seen through the lens of prejudice and bad experience like Geralt and I did.

But to my luck, that wasn’t what stunned Crevan.

“Seventy years?! Mummy, how old are you?” he asked wide-eyed as I put a slice of bread on his plate, along with some strawberries and blueberries.

“One-hundred-forty-three,” I chuckled.

“Woah.”

“But neither of us is human, remember? We live longer than them, but don’t look like it. Your father is ninety-six.”

“Will I get this old?” our son asked, wide-eyed and stunned. As a six-year old, he barely had a grasp on time and age, but he knew that a hundred years was a lot.

“When you always eat your breakfast and listen to what your mother says, then yes, son, you will,” Geralt chimed in with a chuckle. The little boy nodded at his father, popping a berry into his mouth.

“So, you two will start with your training today?” I turned to the little fox. He nodded wildly, mouth full of bread, as his eyes lit up. I chuckled at his excitement.

“Only footwork, the correct fighting stance,” Geralt reminded, “You’ll have to be a lot older before I really show you how to fight.”

“Mhh,” I hummed “Maybe… a little demonstration wouldn’t hurt.”

A twinkle appeared in my husband’s eyes as my gaze met his. “What are you suggesting, woman?” he smirked, cocking a brow.

“I think you know, Witcher,” I teased.

“Oh, you won’t stand a chance,” he growled.

“We’ll see about that.” I took a bite out of the bread drizzled with honey.

While Geralt and I had teased each other, Crevan had watched, wondering what this was all about – he didn’t know I could fight. From the corner of my eye, I saw him spot the marks on my neck, eyes going wide and he stopped chewing.

Fuck. Please, please don’t ask.

“Mummy? What is that on your neck?” he asked almost timidly, voice small.

I shot Geralt a look before turning towards my son, smiling reassuringly at him. “It’s nothing bad, even though it might look that way,” I soothed him, filling the time until Geralt finally explained.

“It’s a reminder for your mummy of how much I love her. And everybody else to stay away from her, that she already belongs to someone,” Geralt explained as child-friendly as possible.

To our luck, Crevan was satisfied with that answer, nodded and continued eating. I let out a silent breath of relief, finishing my own breakfast. Once the three of us were done, Crevan ran off to grab his wooden sword and rushed outside, training a little for himself. I shook my head as I watched him through the window, cleaning up the dishes.

“I’m afraid we can’t keep him from the dangers out there too long,” I frowned, handing Geralt a plate to dry off. “He takes too much after you, minne.”

“It will be his choice then. When he is old enough. All we can do is prepare him for what is out there. But I hate it as much as you do,” his sigh rumbled through the air lowly. He put the plate away and I handed him the next one. This continued for a few minutes; I washed the dishes and Geralt dried them off while we watched our son run around the front yard, fighting imaginary monsters, the chickens and goats.

With a sigh, I turned, taking in the messy kitchen.

“Go, teach him. I’ll clean and get changed and then we can show him,” I told Geralt, already grabbing a rag and a broom.

“You sure? I mean… we created this mess.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’ll be a lot faster if I do it. Now go. Before the rooster attacks him again,” I chuckled, gently shoving him towards the door. In the doorway, he turned.

“That happened?” he asked with a frown, but sounded slightly amused.

“Hm-hmm. Once or twice. While you were gone. But nothing happened,” I chuckled, giving Geralt one last gently shove to the chest, urging him to join our son outside, before I tended to the mess they created. With a sigh and shaking my head, I started working.


	71. This Isn't Kaer Morhen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crevan's first day at training. Geralt forgets that his son isn't enhanced and pushes him to his limits. this is all i could scarpe together... next chepters won't be much different i'm afraid, but i don't want to skip six years to the dragon job... 
> 
> enjoy <3<3<3

It didn’t take me too long to clean up the kitchen. Most of the surfaces were dusted with flour, but it wasn’t anything a damp rag couldn’t wipe away. I mopped the floor though, that was much needed, even without the flour. Once the kitchen was clean again, I left the floor to dry, moving upstairs to change into my old worn leather trousers, my blouse and a new corset – since Geralt destroyed mine, almost exactly six years ago. I put my hair in a tight braid, sheathed my sword – securely hidden in a box underneath our bed – on my back, grabbed Geralt’s blade, and went outside.

Geralt was just showing Crevan how to stand correctly, and I smiled, approaching, waving at my husband with his sword.

“Maybe you really show him,” I called out.

“All he’ll see is you losing,” he smirked when I reached them, handing him his weapon.

“Mummy, you can fight?” Crevan peeped, gaping at my appearance, the sword on my back.

“Mh-mhh.” I nodded. “Your father taught me. And I’ve fought at his side for a long time, which means I know all his tricks.” The last part was more addressed to Geralt, who snorted.

“That still isn’t your advantage.”

“You only win because you’re stronger, have a higher stamina, Witcher.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” he chuckled teasingly before turning towards Crevan. “Now, you’ll go to the paddock, behind the fence. You’ll be a lot safer there than out here. Pay attention to how we move. Not only the swords, but our whole body, especially our feet. If you don’t move your feet, or if your footwork is bad, you’ll stumble and fall. In a serious fight, that could mean death, got it?”

Our son’s eyes went wide with shock at his father’s words; and honestly, I didn’t blame him. If my father had told me that on my first day of training, I would have been terrified. I slapped Geralt’s arm.

“He’s just a child,” I hissed, crouching down to level my face with Crevan’s. “Don’t worry, you’re just beginning. It will be a long time until you will be in a real fight. If it went after me, you’d never have to fight in a real fight, but that is out of my control, so all we can do is prepare you. And your father and I… we won’t hurt each other. This fight won’t be serious, even if it may look dangerous; we know what we’re doing. So just pay attention to our movements, alright?”

He nodded, the fear disappearing from his little face and I ruffled his chestnut curls, stood up and went with him to the paddock, watching as he climbed through the fence before turning back around, stalking towards Geralt, pulling my sword slowly.

With a smirk, he flicked his own blade, an invitation for me to land the first hit. So, I picked up my pace and swung my weapon at him. He easily blocked, using the impact of my blow to push me back. I held my sword against his as I took a few steps backwards, before pulling it to the side and dodging underneath his arm, now standing behind him. Geralt whipped around, blade raised and lunged at me. I easily parried, landing a few quick blows. Geralt blocked every single one, spinning from side to side so fast, I asked myself if he ever got dizzy. With his last swing, he knocked my sword out of my hand, sending it flying to the ground. Triumphantly, he held the tip of his sword under my chin.

“I told you, you wouldn’t stand a chance,” he growled lowly.

“Oh, but I’m not defeated just yet,” I breathed, then, with a quick movement, I jumped to the side, rolled and crouched right where my blade was lying in the grass. I gripped the handle and stood up. Geralt gave me a smirk and swung at me again. I blocked, took a step backwards and dodged under his arm.

This dance continued for a while; blades smashing against each other, teasing comments being exchanged. It was fun, honestly, to fight again. I didn’t even realise how much I had missed it. But soon enough, since I wasn’t as trained as I once was, I ran out of breath, my hits getting sloppy, blocks weak. When Geralt noticed, he landed an especially hard blow, sending my blade flying. I didn’t even try picking it back up. It was no use; he’d have me disarmed in a matter of seconds. With the tip his sword only the fraction of an inch from the hollow of my throat, he smirked down at me triumphantly.

“Told you I’d win,” he teased.

“I never said you wouldn’t,” I pressed out through laboured breaths.

Geralt lowered his sword and grabbed mine off the ground, handing it back to me and I sheathed it. Together, we walked back to where Crevan was standing, giddily hanging onto the fence.

“Will you teach me how to fight like that, daddy?” he exclaimed once we came closer, bouncing on his feet.

“In due time,” Geralt chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the air. “But first -” he picked up the little wooden sword off the ground where Crevan had dropped it and held it out to our son, who grabbed it eagerly. “- you need to have the right posture. Did you see how I was standing?”

The little boy nodded.

“Then show me. How did I stand?” Geralt commanded gently. Crevan climbed out from behind the fence, standing in front of us now. Slowly, he raised his sword, feet about a step apart, legs slightly bent.

“Good,” his father praised. “Now, if I was to swing at you, what do you do?”

“I take a step backwards.”

“Show me.”

Crevan took a step back, the foot that was back before now in front. Geralt shook his head a little, smiling.

“I made that mistake too, when I started,” he chuckled, “Here, let me show you.”

Geralt took in a fighting stance, sword raised. “Now, this leg -” he patted the leg that was in front, “- balances. The one in the back holds your weight. You have to find which one is stronger, and that leg is always back. Your weight shifts when you attack, but that comes later.”

Crevan nodded.

“So, when you take a step backwards, what you do is, you slide your front leg back like this,” Geralt moved his foot backwards slowly, “And the other leg jumps back.”

He finished the slow movement and then repeated it, this time faster, like he’d do in a real fight.

“Now you. Slowly at first.”

Crevan did as he was told, moving just like Geralt had demonstrated. For now, his movements were a little clumsy, he’d need a little practice, but he was a natural. That thought filled me with pride. One day, he’ll be as good a fighter as Geralt. I remember that when Geralt taught me, the very first time I stumbled over the hem of my dress that caught beneath my ankle.

“Perfect. Now faster.”

Again, Crevan obeyed, the movement now more fluent. He really was a natural. And Geralt was a good teacher, a patient one. I’ve experienced it before; he doesn’t hold your mistakes against you, he points them out and helps you learn from them, and he doesn’t get mad when you make the same mistake over and over again. He recognises this mistake as a weakness and helps you overcome it.

I watched them for a while, leaning against the fence. Well, that was until I felt a nudge on my shoulder, accompanied with a blow of hot air.

“You don’t happen to have fed the animals?” I called out, not turning.

“Didn’t have the time yet,” Geralt called back, before focusing back on Crevan’s training.

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, turning around to find Roach standing behind me. I gently petted her muzzle, making her snort. “I won’t let you starve.” Pushing myself off the fence, I called out to my two men, “Don’t forget to take breaks! This is all new to Crevan!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geralt chuckled, “Mind your own business, woman.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the health of my son is my business!” I laughed, walking over to the barn to fill the pushcart with hay. Roach kept her eyes on me the whole time and was soon joined at the fence by the others. I came back, laughing, opening the gate to step onto the paddock; only to be swarmed by three hungry horses and one donkey.

“Girls, I need space, otherwise I cannot feed you!” I laughed at them and miraculously they took a few steps back, letting me push the cart all the way to the crib. But once I started shovelling the hay, they were right next to me again, already munching on the hay, even when I kept shovelling. “You greedy things,” I chuckled, “As if there isn’t enough grass for you.”

They blew their noses at that and I rolled my eyes, manoeuvring the pushcart back to the barn, and grabbing the bucket full of grain for the chickens. I watched them peck them from the ground for a moment before walking around the house into the garden. We had harvested yesterday, baskets of ripe carrots, lettuce and apples lining the outer wall. The goats loved munching on the leafy greens, so when I came back, a basket of carrots in one hand, a basket of lettuce in the other, they bleated loudly, startling Crevan as he listened intently to what Geralt told him, so much that he flinched and dropped his sword.

“Sorry!” I shouted, laughing.

Once the animals were fed, I returned inside to collect the dirty laundry and put them in a hamper. But I’d have to wash the clothes we were currently wearing as well, as sweaty as they were, so I’ll do laundry tomorrow. With nothing really to do – it was too early to start cooking lunch – I returned back outside with two cups and a pitcher of cold water.

“How about a break?” I asked once I was close enough, noticing Crevan struggling to keep his arm up. They’ve been training for about two hours now.

“We didn’t get breaks in Kaer Morhen,” Geralt muttered.

“We’re not in Kaer Morhen,” I scolded him, taking Crevan’s wooden sword and replacing it with a cup, filling it with water, “And he’ll never go there. Not to train, at least.”

There was one thing, though, - despite all his patience and good advice – that made Geralt a bad teacher. He often tended to forget that the people he trained weren’t enhanced as he was. He taught us as he had been taught; more gentle, though, and with patience, but with little breaks. “In a real fight, your opponent won’t give you breaks either,” he had once said when I complained, and he was right; the enemy wouldn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. The moment you slow, you die. Back then, I had tightened the grip on my sword and charged at him. I was a grown woman, with already a little experience in fighting, used to the weight of a sword in my hand. But this now was our son we were talking about. A young boy. Crevan didn’t have the strength to train hours on end. Geralt seemed to have forgotten that this child wasn’t going to be a witcher just because he underwent a witcher’s training. Neither of us wanted our son to become a witcher, but Geralt trained him as he was trained. I didn’t blame him; I knew that he simply didn’t know better or a different way; and that was why I was there, to remind him that this child wasn’t a witcher trainee, but our son.

I also took Geralt’s sword from his hands and handed him a cup. His sword was slightly heavier as mine – or my father’s – but it was also a little bigger, custom made for him, fitting his size. My father had been shorter; luckily for me, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to fight with his sword.

“How are you, little fox?” I asked Crevan, who was still struggling to catch his breath as I refilled his empty cup. He gulped the cool liquid greedily before answering.

“Tired,” he panted.

I took a second to glare at my husband. I know it wasn’t his fault; he was unfamiliar with human endurance (though, none of the three of us was human), let alone that of a child. But didn’t he see that our son was close to collapsing?

“You did great today,” he finally praised the panting boy, patting his shoulder proudly, “We’ll continue when you say so.”

Even though Crevan was beyond exhausted, his eyes lit up as he peered up at his father. “Tomorrow?” he chirped, making Geralt chuckle and shake his head.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow, weddin (‘kiddo’),” I laughed, “Maybe next week, hm? I’ll make you a straw puppet, so you can practice your first hits. How does that sound?”

“Good,” was all he managed to say before a yawn rippled through his entire body and he was struggling to stand upright.

Chuckling, Geralt picked him up and we started making our way back inside. “You’re gonna take a nap now, and when you wake up, lunch will be ready, yeah?” he chuckled, putting our son on his bed.

“Uh-huh,” Crevan slurred, tiredly kicking off his boots, already half asleep. I quickly came to his aid, pulling the other boot off his foot, and tucking him in. He was knocked out cold before his head hit the pillows. Smiling at his sleeping form, Geralt and I left the room and shut the door.

Geralt followed me into the kitchen, sitting down at the table while I started prepping lunch.

“He really is a natural,” he said after a while, a hint of pride in his deep, rich voice.

“Maybe it’s in his blood,” I shrugged, peeling a carrot. “But he’s young, minne. He has limits. You will need to pay more attention to that. How it was today… it was too much for him.” I turned around, facing my husband. He looked at me, ecologically, a tinge of regret in his eyes.

“I know,” he sighed, “But I was trained to push beyond my limits. From the start.”

“That’s why I’m there,” I smiled at him, “To remind you to go easy on him, not like you trained me.”

“Hey, it didn’t do you bad,” Geralt smirked.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “But I was older – older than even you – and he’s just a child.”

“You think he’s too young to start training?” he asked, suddenly very concerned, standing up.

“No,” I shook my head, “As long as you go easy on him. The younger you start the better. Only the gods know how long we have before you have to leave again,” I sighed the last part, putting the knife down.

“Not long enough, I’m afraid,” Geralt mumbled, stepping closer and embracing me, “But you could come with me.”

“I don’t think the road is the right place for him,” I sighed into his tunic.

“You’re right, maybe when he’s older,” he mumbled, “But it’s killing me every time I have to leave – the two of you staying behind.”

“I know. I hate that, too. But it’s too late to change that now.”

“I wouldn’t want to change that. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Geralt whispered, his deep voice rumbling through his chest right under my ear.

I felt tears prickling at the corner of my eyes and quickly pulled back, busying myself with preparing lunch.

“Can you help me peel the vegetables?” I choked out. Geralt nodded and picked up a knife, ignoring my tone, realizing I didn’t want to go further into that topic. Why I was almost crying, I didn’t quite know. Was it because I knew how the love of my life had to suffer as a child and when he was older? Was it because I knew that – even though having a child is about the best thing that could happen to anyone – only a few good things had happened to Geralt throughout his long life, so having Crevan wasn’t that hard to top? The bar for things he considered ‘good’ was low; to him, a good thing was when he came into a town where they didn’t hate him, and even that had been rare before we met Jaskier and even a while after that. Oh, by the gods, I hated that he had to go through so much before we met, before I could try to distract him.

No, Nienna, you won’t cry now!

I shook my head and continued peeling carrots, with my husband right by my side. We were happy now. Though things from our past still haunted us, we moved forwards and our son helped us.


	72. Nighly Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> writer's block hit, but i wanted to upload this chapter together with the one after that, because it ends with a cliffhanger and i didnt want to leave you hanging, hence the long wait. 
> 
> hope you like it <3<3<3

Over the next months, I watched Geralt train our son. We had put together a straw puppet – like I promised – for Crevan, so he could practice attacking. I still had to interfere from time to time when I saw Geralt was pushing our son too far, but over the time, he adjusted to our Crevan’s limits – this was new to both of them.

Summer was coming to an end and we started stocking up for the winter. I had sent Geralt to the village to stock up on flour, blankets and basically everything we’d need to get through the winter. He took Crevan with him, so I had my peace while I cooked jam and pickled what we had harvested from our garden. I know, I could just conjure food when needed, but it felt wrong to do so, especially when the people in the village need the coin.

They came back in the late afternoon, the cart and the bags on both Roach and Cod loaded until nothing fit in anymore. We quickly unloaded the horses, Crevan feeding them and the other animals, while Geralt and I continued with the cart. It took us a while until everything was stored away. Once we were done, the sun already started to descent. With no real time to cook dinner, we had bread and homemade goat cheese before we tucked Crevan in.

While Geralt told our son another story, I locked up. A cold breeze invaded our home just as I pushed the door shut, carrying a faint smell that made my stomach turn, its sweetness almost making me gag, even though it was just the slightest hint. I rushed over to the window, but didn’t see anyone. Geralt finished with Crevan’s bedtime story, exited his room and shut the door almost silently. Upon spotting me standing at the window, staring outside with a piercing glare, he came over, wrapping his arms around me from behind and pulling me against his chest.

“What are you still doing down here, my love?” he asked in a rumbling whisper, his chest vibrating against my back.

“I thought… Do you smell this?”

“Smell what?” he was confused. Did I just imagen it? No, I definitely had smelled that cursed sweet scent.

“Never mind,” I sighed, letting my tense shoulders drop, but I still felt uneasy. Still, I let my husband lead me upstairs to our bedroom, helping him undress just as he helped me, exchanging sweet kisses while doing so. Neither of us really needed the other’s help but this was as intimate as we could be with our son sleeping downstairs. We lied in bed, entangled and naked, like we always slept and soon enough Geralt’s soft snoring filled the room. I tried to let the sound lull me into sleep, his warm embrace usually helping, but I just couldn’t. That smell… it left me on edge. With nerves tense enough I could swear they would tear, I slipped out of Geralt’s arms and the bed altogether

Wrapping myself in my sheets, I stepped close to the window glaring outside. There was nothing. The remaining sunlight started to fade and I was just about to return when my eyes caught a slight movement just at the edge of the thicket of trees that lined the road from the village. I kept staring on the black dot as it came closer.

Behind my back, Geralt stirred from his sleep. I heard him frantically searching the sheets for my warmth. He wouldn’t find it; I’ve been standing here for too long for even the tiniest remainder of warmth to waft from my usual spot on the bed.

“Nienna?” I heard him slur, voice drunken from sleep. I couldn’t answer, though, too entranced by the figure coming closer and closer, approaching through the night. The wooden floor creaked as Geralt walked over to me, wrapping his arms around me like he had done earlier.

“What are you doing out of bed?” His warm breath fanned over my ear and exposed neck and shoulder.

Usually this would make me shiver and succumb into his embrace, but not this time. I was filled with dread. Someone was coming here, and either they came in peace or they could see straight through the illusion that hid our home from visits born from ill intentions. I feared it was the latter.

“Someone’s coming,” I finally brought out, my voice a shaky whisper.

Geralt followed my stare, spotting the figure. “Get dressed,” he commanded, “Let’s see what they want.”

He stepped away from me, to do what he had told me to do, slipping into his trousers and boots. I watched him for a moment, perplexed. Blinking a few times, I came to my senses, quickly putting my dress back on. Grabbing his sword, Geralt led the way downstairs, moving as quietly as possible. I followed, my dagger clutched in my fist.

Never had I been this tense within the walls of our home. This was supposed to be our safe place, a hideout from the world outside.

As the figure approached, I could sense magic on them and that sweet smell seeped through the gap beneath the front door. It made me sick, the scent just as much as the knowledge of who it was outside. I let out a strangled gasp, feeling my stomach flip in fear.

“Don’t succumb to it,” I warned Geralt.

“To what?” he asked, eyeing me with confusion. How could he not smell it?

“That smell.”

I watched anxious as he took a deep breath. I saw it in his eyes. Something shifted within him.

“Fuck. It’s her.”

“Please, don’t let it get to you,” I begged. But Geralt grabbed my shoulders, staring down at me with a small, soothing smile.

“I made a promise, remember?” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, “And I have an idea how I can keep it.”

With long strides, he left me standing in the main room, taking off to my healer’s kitchen. Within a minute, he returned, a vial in his hand, already uncorked. I recognized the smell of the potion immediately. It would make him have complete control over his body. I watched him drink, the effect kicking in almost immediately. When his eyes found my face again that glint that had shot a dagger through my heart was gone.

“Does it still affect you?” I whispered timidly.

A smile stretched on my husband’s face, making my heart jump with relief before he could answer. “No, not in the slightest.”

I wanted to squeal, to jump into his arms and cry tears of relief into the collar of his shirt, but the footsteps that were still coming closer kept me from that. That and the fact that Crevan was sleeping in the room just down the hall.

The room was dark. I didn’t dare to peer out the window to see how close she was. Instead, I listened to her steps. And she was close the pebbles of the short path to our door crunching under her feet. Still I flinched when two sharp knocks rattled our door.

I nodded at Geralt’s questioning glance as he took a step towards the door, his hand on the latch. I took a few steps back, though, wanting to have as much distance between myself and the woman who had caused us so much pain.

The door swung open upon Geralt’s doing and we were faced with the raven haired sorceress, her silhouette illuminated by the faint moonlight while violet irises pierced through the darkness.

“What do you want here, Yennefer?”


	73. Crimson Lips And Poisoned Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at this point, i feel like i have to say that i dont hate yennefer. i want her and nienna's relationship to be difficult, but eventually they'll get along.
> 
> enjoy <3<3<3

“What do you want here, Yennefer?” Geralt’s low growl ripped through the silence.

“Mh, so it really was you in the village,” she purred, not at all surprised to stand face to face with the witcher.

I hated that her voice sounded like black velvet, smooth and seductive. Fear clutched my heart, stealing my breath. I knew, now that Geralt had taken the potion her spell wouldn’t affect him anymore, – for as long as the effect of the liquid lasted, at least – but I still feared she could steal him away from me. Absurd, I know; he had sworn over and over again that he belonged to me and I belonged to him, but there was no denying that this woman in front of us was simply stunning; a dark beauty, a temptress.

With a small wave of my hand, I lit the candles around the room.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” I hissed at her. I had to bite back a triumphant smile as she spotted me. To say she was shocked would be exaggerated, but she was taken aback to say the least, mouth gaping slightly. But she quickly collected herself. The smile on her crimson-painted lips dripped poison, but I didn’t let it faze me as I stepped closer to Geralt, letting him wrap a possessive arm around my waist. His touch put my mind at ease, confirmed his promise. _He belonged to me and to me alone_.

“And who are you?” her velvet voice sounded through the room.

Before I could speak up, Geralt growled at her, “She’s my wife. Now. What. Are. You. Doing. Here. Yennefer?” His voice was low and threatening, pressed out through clenched teeth.

“Your wife, hm?” She eyed me, violet orbs scanning my entire body, not only my face. It made me feel more than self-conscious. Still, I stared back at her, a smouldering fire of anger behind my eyes. “She’s tiny,” the sorceress mocked, “Doesn’t she break every time you touch her?”

I only glared at her.

Gods, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. No, no knife. It was too thick, the knife would break. With a sword. The pressure of it made it hard to breathe.

“I will not ask again,” Geralt growled, almost spat, at her, ignoring her remark, his eyes blazing just as mine.

She tore her eyes off me, facing the witcher with an arrogant smile. “Oh? Am I not allowed to show up at your house in the middle of the night, now? Like you showed up at mine.”

“No, you are not. There is no reason for you to be here.”

“I saw you in the village. There was a little boy with you. Who was that?” she asked, ignoring his words.

My jaw and fists clenched, and I was suddenly reminded of the dagger in my hand that was hidden behind my husband’s back as I gripped it tightly. Why did she ask about Crevan? He was absolutely none of her business.

“No one you should care about,” I hissed at up her. Damn, she was tall, making me feel so small.

“Hm,” she laughed, not even glancing at me.

Geralt squeezed my hip gently, soothingly, before answering the sorceress’s question. “The boy is my son,” he pressed out through gritted teeth, “If that was why you’re here, then you can leave now.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here for,” she purred again, completely ignoring my presence, “The people in the village told me a witcher lived here and I just had to see for myself.”

“Alright, listen,” I hissed, fed up with her, “If you’re not here because there is a monster to kill or need a healer, then leave.”

“Talking big for such a small girl, hm? Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, little one?” she teased with a poisoned smile.

Geralt next to me chuckled now, “Don’t underestimate her. She’s way stronger than she looks.”

Now it was my turn to smirk arrogantly up at her, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, exposing the pointed tip.

“An elf,” she scoffed.

“Half elf,” I corrected, “And half witcher.”

“That is not possible.”

“Yet here I am. And now, leave, before I make you. You already caused enough pain.”

Suddenly she was back to her arrogant self, smirking down at me. “Oh darling, that is what I do. I inflict pain.”

“Not in this house.” At this point, Geralt’s arm around my waist was more to hold me back than anything else. He knew I could get pretty ugly, but apparently, he also knew about Yennefer’s powers.

“Stop it now, both of you,” he said, voice commanding. “You’re going to wake him up,” he said the last part more gentle, directed at me. I nodded. The last thing I wanted was for Crevan to wake up.

Geralt let go of my waist and took a step forwards, forcing Yennefer to step back. He kept walking until she was standing outside. I followed and pulled the door shut behind us.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Yennefer. Why are you here?” Geralt growled, raising his voice a little, now that the sounds would be muffled by the front door, the risk of waking our sleeping son lessened.

She flashed one or her venomous smiles again, opening her painted lips to answer. “I…” more didn’t leave her mouth. She hesitated. I stared into her eyes, trying to read her. All I saw was confusion. “I saw you and had to follow you,” she admitted, “You were gone when I woke up.”

As if that would explain why she was here. I would bet a good amount of coin that when she asked in town who that white-haired man was, the people answered, “Our local witcher. Lives right at the forest seam with his wife, our healer”. The people knew us, appreciated what we did for them, just as we appreciated them. And I knew for a fact that they never talked about us individually; they always talked about both of us, because it was rare they only saw one of us.

There was hurt in her eyes, reaching deeper than just waking up alone after fucking my husband. Her eyes were those of a woman who had been hurt her entire life, both physically and emotionally. I would feel sorry for her, if it wasn’t for the fact that she had made my husband fuck her. So, I hissed at her.

“And for a good reason!”

“Well,” the smile reappeared, her eyes fixed on me now, piercing “He didn’t stop me. And he never mentioned you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from gathering in my eyes. “Because Geralt was under your spell,” I pressed out through gritted teeth.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly collected herself. “Not after he did what I wanted him to,” she shrugged, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, yeah. Beating the crap out of town officials,” I scoffed. “I think you’re forgetting the whole part where your spell lingers.”

“I know my spells. It doesn’t.”

Geralt wrapped his arm around my waist again. “Believe me, Yennefer, it does,” he spoke up, voice gravelly, most likely recalling the time after he came back from Rinde, how it almost tore us apart. He paused for a moment. “You’ve seen me; you know now why I left. Is that enough? Can you go now?”

“You don’t really want me to go,” she purred, smiling at him seductively – as if I wasn’t standing right next to him!

Glancing up, I saw Geralt’s face harden, golden eyes piercing through the darkness as he glared at Yennefer. “Yes, I do. I want you to go. I will not let you destroy the one good thing I have in life,” he growled low and threatening. If I didn’t know him, this tone would scare me. But it did nothing to the sorceress. “Listen, I came back that day because you were about to get yourself killed. I couldn’t let that happen, because you saved Jaskier’s life. That is the **only** reason I came back. Everything that happened after that was your spell’s doing.”

Yennefer huffed in disbelief, but didn’t say anything.

“I will say it one last time. Leave.”

With an unreadable expression, she turned around. “This is not the end of it,” she said with her back turned towards us, before walking off, her head held high.

“Yes, it is,” I muttered bitterly. We stood there until she disappeared from our sight, her sweet scent lingering in the air, making me sick.

“Well,” Geralt started as he reopened the door motioning for me to go in first, “She was a lot nicer when she didn’t know I was married,” he attempted to joke, pulling the door behind us, locking it.

I turned to face him, my face a mix of annoyance, hurt and disbelief. His attempt to break the tension that still lingered in the air had clearly failed, he could see that much. Within one stride, he stood right in front of me and pulled me against his hard chest, his hands cradling the back of my head and my waist ever so gently, a harsh contrast to the man I saw only minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against the top of my head before pressing a long kiss to my hair. “Let’s go back to bed, hm?” he suggested after a while of holding me, the tension melting away. I nod into his chest, unable to get out a word. The whole encounter affected me more than I expected.

Before I could register fully, I was picked up by the back of my thighs. My legs wrapped around Geralt more out of instinct than anything else. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head in the crook of his neck while he carried me upstairs. I didn’t want to, but I was lost in my thoughts, too deep to notice how Geralt put me down on the bed, undressed himself and me, before lying down and pulling me close to him. I almost didn’t hear him whisper, “I wish you would have never met her. Or at least not like this.”

Soon after, all I heard was soft snoring. It must have been early morning hours anyway, and I tried to follow his example, but as tired as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep, the pained expression in those violet eyes haunted me. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to despise with my entire being. She almost destroyed everything I had. But I couldn’t. It just wasn’t in my being. She had suffered, and I would not be worth my title as healer if I didn’t want to help her. And I didn’t know if I wanted to hate myself for that thought.

It took hours for me to finally fall asleep to the even breath and heartbeat of Geralt as he held me close, enveloping me in his warmth and strong arms – my safe place, a place where usually all my troubles melted, but not tonight. My dreams were filled with violet irises filled with pain, and countless possibilities of how they got this way. Not to mention that this night was all but peaceful.


	74. I Want To Help Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I dont know what to put here) i'm not dead, yay!
> 
> Enjoy <3<3<3

The images didn’t leave my head even after I woke up. I had seen glimpses of her past while I stared into her eyes. She had been sold as a young girl, crooked and considered ugly. A voice echoed in the back of my head, not one I had ever heard before. _Even if you were a beauty, still no one would love you_. As much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn’t. She had been in pain her whole life, inflicted upon her by the cruel world around her, and now she was giving the world this pain back. And that confusion I had seen in her, as if she didn’t know why she turned up at our door in the middle of the night. She had tried to cover it, but I could see right through her. If I hadn’t been so angry, I probably would have invited her in and tried to talk…

What the fuck am I thinking!? She fucked my husband! She almost ruined everything Geralt and I had built in the last twenty years! And now…

Now it seemed to me that she had no control over herself when it came to Geralt. That she, also, was under some kind of spell.

Groaning, I turned in bed, expecting to lean against Geralt, for him to wrap me in his arms and chuckle at my behaviour, – I wasn’t a morning person – but I fell on my face, right where his massive, warm body would usually lie. Now all there was were cold sheets and his scent of wilderness and leather. Well, better than nothing. I buried my face in the sheets and breathed in his scent, my mind now finally letting go of the images of Yennefer of Vengerberg.

Tentatively, I opened my eyes, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the sun – a habit that was hard to lose after each summer. The room was dim, the sun covered by thick, grey clouds. Autumn was arriving at full speed now. It would rain later. Though determining the time with the help of the sun was impossible now, something told me it was already past midday. From outside, I heard the dull sound of carved wood hitting on wood, along with occasional praises and commands. Geralt was training our son, possibly for the last time this year before the winter came.

Wrapping myself in the soft blanket, I got off the bed, shivering slightly as my feet made contact with the cool wooden floor. Quickly, I scurried over to the chest that held our clothes, pulling out a thick woollen dress and a pair of socks, before getting dressed. I tied my hair together and made my way down to the kitchen, grabbing a slice of bread to nibble on while joining my son and husband outside.

“You’re getting better and better, little fox,” I marvelled once I was close enough, watching as he charged at the straw puppet with precise hits. The way he fought, you could think he trained for longer than just a few months. I chuckled when no reaction came from Crevan, too focused on his ‘opponent’. “Following your father’s advice I see,” I mumbled to deaf ears. Keeping a safe distance, I walked around the little fighter, not keen to be hit by his wooden sword. It wouldn’t be dangerous, but I could live without a bruise. I stepped up next to Geralt and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pressing a short kiss to the top of my head before focusing on our son again.

“Morning, love,” he mumbled into my hair, “How are you?”

“Morning,” I sighed, “Tired, and I can’t get _her_ out of my head.”

“Try to forget about her,” he grumbled in return, annoyed at her for showing up last night.

I chuckled dryly, “I wish I could. But she seemed so confused and hurt. She hid it well, but…”

“Forget about her,” Geralt spoke again, but I shook my head.

“I can’t. She… I think she is under some kind of spell. Just like you are under hers. You are bound now, somehow…” I mumbled, “Maybe it’s the djinn’s magic. Whatever you wished for, that’s its twist.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to sigh, deeply so, running a hand over his face. “I never wanted that to happen. All I wanted was to save her life, because she saved Jaskier.”

“I know.” I turned to face him and cupped his jaw with both of my hands, tiny against the chiselled structure of his god-like face. “But she’s hurting. I’ve seen it. She’s lonely, searching for a purpose. Shit, I hate myself for that. I should hate her, but… I want to help her.”

Geralt smiled down at me warmly, moving his head to kiss my palm. “You’re too good for this world,” he mumbled against my skin, “Too forgiving. It doesn’t deserve you.”

“I only forgive those who deserve it,” I chuckled, “Those who had no other choice.”

We decided to keep it at that, turning towards Crevan, who was still swinging at the straw puppet, stepping forwards and backwards just as Geralt had taught him. Though I hadn’t contributed to his training, seeing our son fight like this, with the skill of someone who trained for years, when he had only started this spring, filled me with pride. He was the born warrior, the offspring of a witcher. Still I hoped he would never have to face evil in his life. But I knew that my wish would not be granted. He was the son of a witcher after all, though we didn’t want him to enter a witcher’s life, he would, most likely.

I shook my head slightly to get rid of that thought, focusing back on the little boy, who had dropped his sword and was eagerly downing the cup of water that had stood on a stool nearby. They were taking breaks now, much to my relief. Crevan may be of witcher blood, blessed with some of their mutations without having to go through The Trials, but that didn’t mean that he had to be pushed to his limits like young witchers were. He was three parts witcher; he’d never be a full one, not if I had a say in it.

Putting the cup down, he spotted me, beaming. “Have you seen my, mummy?” he asked excitedly.

I chuckled, nodding, “I did. You’re getting so much better with every day, little fox. I’m sure you’ll soon be able to best your father.” I nudged Geralt in the side with my elbow, earning an amused glare.

“That might take a few decades, but you sure as hell will be able to beat your mother soon,” he chuckled teasingly.

I opened my mouth in protest, but shut it soon after. Geralt was right. As soon as Crevan was old enough, strong enough and tall enough, I’d be no match for him, just like I was to his father. I dreaded the day my little boy would be a young man, afraid he wouldn’t need me anymore; all these times he would crawl into our bed in the middle of the night, afraid of the thunderstorm raging outside, they would be a mere memory then. But I also couldn’t wait to see him grow into a strong and caring man like his father.

“No,” braved, “I will not fight mummy. I will not fight girls.”

“And why is that, little fox?” I asked, curious as to what Geralt had taught him besides fighting.

“Because it would be unfair,” he almost shouted, “I’m stronger than a girl, she would have no chance, and I don’t hurt girls.”

I looked at Geralt. He only shrugged, smirking knowingly. He had fought his fair share of girls, myself included – never a fair fight. He was a witcher; he didn’t fight fair. He fought with his strength and his Signs, having an advantage over every single one of his opponents. But he’d be damned if he raised our son into a cheater.

Crevan set down the cup and picked up his sword again, eyeing Geralt eagerly. Break’s over. I chuckled, shaking my head.

“If I’m not needed here, I’ll be in the kitchen, baking. Any wishes for dinner?”

“I’d die for some roast meat,” Geralt interrupted whatever he was explaining to Crevan to answer my question.

“Then you’ll have to go hunting or to the butcher’s. The chickens are for eggs only.” I told him. He visibly tensed at the word ‘butcher’, still not over what some people called him. I shot him an apologetic smile, and he relaxed. He knew I didn’t mean him, still that word held a different meaning to him than to other people, even after all these years.

“I’ll go get some tomorrow, then,” he said and I nodded, smiling, and made my way inside, letting my two men continue their training.

Back in the kitchen, I started chopping up some vegetables and potatoes for some stew. I made stew a lot, but neither of them complained, so I’d keep making it. It was easiest, would last for at least two days, even with the amount Geralt devoured. Once the pot sat on the stove, bubbling lightly, I started preparing dough for at least two breads. Again, both of them ate a lot, Geralt to maintain his size, and I think Crevan was growing again.

I watched them while I kneaded the dough, spicing one with herbs from the garden. My heart swelled as I watched Geralt praise our son for a particularly good swing that knocked the wooden sword from the straw puppet. Pride was written over both of their faces. There was no way I could keep our son from fighting, be it as a knight or as an incomplete witcher. I knew I couldn’t keep him from wanting to be like his father, – Geralt had known that too, even before I was pregnant; the reason he had hoped for a daughter – but we would never have Crevan go through The Trials. I could still see he pain in Geralt’s eyes sometimes that the procedure caused him, pushed him to his limits over and over again. It could have killed him, like it killed all the other boys, but he lived – with the painful memories of going through the trails not only once but several times.

No, I would never have my sweet little boy go through that, even if he begged me to let him become just like his father. I wouldn’t allow it, and neither would Geralt. And from what we knew, there would be no need. Crevan’s senses were already sharpened, mutations he inherited from his father, just as I had from mine, only not to that extend. Our son was already three parts witcher.

As it grew dark outside, they came back inside; Geralt carrying a panting but giggling Crevan over his shoulder and all the way up into the bathroom.

“He needs a bath,” Geralt muttered as they passed by the kitchen-door. Shaking my head, I rushed after them; I had to conjure the bath after all. Walking up the stairs behind them, I noticed large, green stains at the back of Crevan’s shirt along with a tear in his sleeve.

“What did you do?” I asked once we reached the top of the stairs, cocking a brow and putting my hands on my hips, trying my best to be stern. I had never expected that I had to be the strict parent, but here we were. My height wasn’t helping.

“I showed daddy what I could do!” The little boy babbled proudly. Blades of grass fell out of his hair from his rapid movements.

I shook my head and then glared up at Geralt, the height difference surely making it look ridiculous.

“He challenged me,” the witcher explained, raising his hands slightly in defence, “And I only blocked… well, and the he stumbled.” He was trying hard not to chuckle while I was glaring up at him. “Nothing happened,” he finally gave in to the urge that was tightening his chest and released a low chuckle.

“But something could have!” I snapped, “One misjudged swing! And do you know, both of you, how hard it is to get grass stains out of your clothes? And who has to stitch them, huh? Not you!”

“Sorry, mummy.” Crevan’s sad voice made me feel guilty almost instantly, but I was still upset with both of them.

“Love,” Geralt grabbed my shoulders after motioning for Crevan to go into the bathroom, “Nothing happened,” his voice rumbled deeply, calmingly, “I’m careful when training him. I always am. I use a wooden sword as well. Nothing will ever happen. Hey, look at me.” One of his hands came up to my chin, lifting my head to meet his gaze, which I had avoided until then, rather having an eye on our son to see if he is limping or hurt otherwise. When my eyes met his now, they were soft and sincere, honeyed orbs gazing down at me with slight worry. “What’s the matter, my love?” his voice was just as soft as his eyes now, barely above a whisper, his breath warm on my face.

I swallowed thickly, searching for the right words to say. “I… don’t know,” I confessed in a whisper, “Guess I’m just a little out of it after yesterday. She… ugh! I just can’t get her out of my head. That pain, the confusion, that emptiness inside her… I want to help her, and I’m starting to hate myself for it.”

Both of his large hands cupped my jaw now, his stare intensifying as he spoke soothingly, “Nienna, you are a healer. You would have chosen the wrong profession if you didn’t want to help those who are hurting. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

With a weak smile I covered Geralt’s hands with mine, leaning up to him slightly. With a knowing smile, he dipped his head down, capturing my lips with his in a sweet, calming kiss.

“What would I do without you?” I mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm. You’d be still living in that tiny cotta-”

“Mummy, I need wate- Ew!”

Geralt and I shot apart at the voice of our son. I rolled my eyes and chuckled as I walked over to the bathroom. Geralt remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. I quickly conjured a hot bath for Crevan and returned downstairs. Just when I took the breads out of the oven, the stairs creaked under the weight of my son and husband. Dinner was served and eaten rather quickly after the day of training. While I washed up, Geralt tucked Crevan in and told him about yet another of his adventures. Not long before Geralt came out of the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

He came up behind me, lips ghosting over my jaw as he took the plate I had just finished cleaning from my hands and dried it off, setting it into its place.

“Is he asleep,” I whispered, leaning against Geralt as he turned me around.

“Hmm,” he let out a deep hum of confirmation, his lips continuing to travel all over my neck. With a sudden jolt, he picked me up, my arms and legs wrapping around him out of instinct as he carried me upstairs.

“Do I need to take your mind off things?” he asked as he sat me down in our bedroom, the suggestive undertone didn’t go unnoticed.

“No,” I smiled, “I’m good. Sorry about earlier. And-” I batted his arm. “- we can’t do something like that when Crevan is here!” I whisper-shouted, causing my husband to chuckle.

“We could always go to the pond,” he shrugged.

“Too cold. And it’s definitely going to rain tonight, probably even storm. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t already.”

I walked over to the bed, untying the laces of my dress as I go. Before it could slip off my shoulders, two large hands covered my upper arms, guiding the fabric down ever so gently.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Geralt breathed into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. But I shook my head.

“Not tonight, minne,” I sighed, turning around, “I-”, I stopped myself, smiling fondly, “Crevan will come crawling into our bed tonight.”

“You’re sure of that?” The breath that accompanied his whispered question tickled against my ear as Geralt helped me out of my dress, the lingering, seductive touches changing to soft and caring ones. I shake my head slightly in disbelief, a small laugh escaping my lips.

“You spend so much time with him, more than I do, and still you know him so little.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Hm? What do you mean?”

Smiling, I cupped his stubbled jaw with both my hands, somewhere in the back of my mind I made a mental note to sit him down to shave soon. “What I mean is,” I murmur, “That your little warrior is deadly afraid of thunderstorms.”

As if on cue a flash of lightning cracks through the darkness, lighting up the dimly lit room for a fraction of a second. The storm was still far away, the low rumbling of the thunder following quiet for even my sharp ears. Though it was nearing quickly, a sharp wind already whipping around the corners of our house.


	75. Keep You Safe Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is very very short, but very fluffy family time
> 
> hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Geralt and I settled into bed, leaving the candle on the bedside table lit, so our son wouldn’t stumble in the darkness. It wasn’t long before the storm drew closer, the rain slapping the windows sharply, the sky lighting up for mere seconds before going dark and clearing the stage for the low rumbling thunder which cracked like a whip the closer the storm came.

I had always found comfort in that play of nature, especially after I met Geralt. We would stay at an inn, or at home, cuddle up in bed and simply enjoy each other’s presence. But someone wasn’t as fond of the loud cracking that ripped him from his much needed sleep. The stairs creaked quietly as Crevan tiptoed his way into our bedroom, clutching the small stuffed wolf I had made him in his arms. He was visibly shaking and pale as a sheet.

I sat up upon seeing him, holding out my arms. “Oh, dear, it’s alright. Come here, we’ve got you,” I whispered soothingly.

“Mummy, I’m scared,” he mumbled in a shaky voice as he climbed onto my lap, letting me wrap my arms around him, hold him in a protective embrace.

“I know, darling, but we’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” I press a kiss to his temple, wrapping my arms tighter around the trembling little boy. Geralt pulled the two of us to lie down, arms tightly around both of us.

Crevan flinched when yet another thunder boomed, clinging on to the stuffed animal in his arms.

“We’ll protect you, son,” Geralt murmured soothingly, the rumble of his voice calming Crevan noticeably. He has always had this effect on our little fox, even before he was born. “You’re safe. This is just a little thunder, nothing more. It can’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I’m still scared, daddy.” The whimper made me squeeze him even tighter.

“That’s alright,” Geralt cooed, “When I was your age, I was afraid of it, too.”

“ _You_ were afraid of something?” Crevan asked, stunned, his own fear slipping into the background, “But… but you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, believe me, little fox, I was,” Geralt whispered with a chuckle, “And there are still things I am afraid of: losing you or your mother, Roach, even,” he stopped himself, taking a deep breath and grumbled almost inaudibly, “Even Jaskier.”

“ _Portals_ ,” I whispered, causing my husband to glare at me.

“I am not afraid of portals, woman. I don’t like them, but I am not afraid of them.”

“Whatever you say, minne,” I shrugged.

“Hm,” came his grunted reply and then there was a moment of silence in the room, Crevan starting to drift back to sleep, but another thunder rolling through the sky made him flinch.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I cooed, running my fingers through his thick curls soothingly, humming an old elven lullaby softly into his ear. It had always calmed him down when he was younger, and seemingly still worked its magic on the little fox. Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep in Geralt and my arms, unfazed the raging storm outside. I smiled, continuing to card my fingers through his hair, chuckling quietly when the memory of him telling me he wanted to grow his hair out like his father crossed my mind.

“Have I told you lately what a wonderful mother you are?” Geralt mumbled after a moment of silence, the angry slapping of the rain against our shutters and the howling of the wind the only thing to be heard.

I smiled teasingly through the darkness, knowing he’d see me. “Mhh, I don’t remember… maybe say it again just in case?”

Geralt gave me one of his rare toothy grins. “You are a wonderful mother, my love. And I couldn’t be happier with this precious gift you made me.”

“It was teamwork,” I whispered back. Another moment of silence passed, the both of us just smiling at each other through the darkness; the candle I had left on for Crevan to find his way safely had burned out by now. “I don’t want him to grow up,” I mumbled after a while, “I wish he could stay like this forever; curious and without the weight of the world pushing him down.”

Geralt sighed, but smiled at me nonetheless. “I know, but that is something we have no influence on. I, for my part, cannot wait to see the strong young man we’ll make out of him.”

“Me neither, but,” I stifled a yawn, “I’ll miss moments like this. I’m afraid that one day he won’t need us anymore.”

Geralt rubbed my side affectionately. “You did need your father, right? And your mother? You were old enough to stand on your own, but you still needed them, didn’t you?” I only nodded. “So why should our son be different?”

“You’re right, minne,” I stifled another yawn.

“Maybe you should try and sleep, hm?”

“Good idea.” Another yawn. “I love you two so much,” I whispered, knowing Crevan couldn’t hear me, but a small snore told me he somehow understood what I had said. I smiled and closed my eyes.

“Good night, my love.” But I barely registered Geralt’s raspy whisper, already drifting off to sleep in his embrace, our son safely nestled between us.


	76. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, it's been a while. i'm soo sorry if you have been waiting... i got stuck.  
> And yes, the thing about the rain i got from doctor who, for those wondering
> 
> Also, Crevan being a cock-block
> 
> Enjoy<3<3<3

The next morning, I woke up at the edge of the bed, facing the room, almost falling off. I felt a foot in my back and carefully turned around, chuckling quietly to myself. The sight I was met with melted my heart. Crevan lay entangled in Geralt’s arms, still somehow able to sprawl out enough to kick me in his sleep. He was limply holding onto his little stuffed wolf, his ever-growing curls covering his eyes. In their relaxed state, they almost looked the same, well, apart from hair colour, age and the scars that littered my husband’s god-like face, but still, our son was an exact replica of his father.

For a moment I watched how the dim sunlight that filtered through the closed shutters played on their features, listened to their slow, even breathing and strong heartbeat. The older he got, the slower Crevan’s heartbeat became, slowly but surely resembling a witcher’s. I was yet to decide if I liked that or not.

But soon enough I grew restless just lying around. Careful not to wake them from their precious sleep, I slipped out of bed, quickly and quietly got dressed and opened a window, letting the cool air stream into the room. As I stood there, I took a deep breath, inhaling the rich petrichor that lay heavy in the air after last night’s rain. I sighed happily, this scent was my favourite thing about autumn; the ground would be dry after summer and when the heavy rain came and went, the air would carry this fresh, earthy scent. I just loved it.

The breeze that entered the bedroom was cold, colder than I had expected and I quickly went over to the bed and covered Crevan and Geralt with yet another blanket, even though Geralt radiated a generous amount of heat, I better not tested my luck, not wishing to have to take care of a sick fox before winter came. In his sleep, Geralt emitted an appreciative grunt and I smiled, leaning down and planting a feather-light kiss to his temple before making my way downstairs and into the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the three of us.

It felt like hours before I heard them stir upstairs. In the meantime, I had fed the animals already and released them to their pens after having spent the night in the stables. I smiled to myself when I heard the floorboards creak quietly when Geralt’s feet first made contact. When he didn’t need to be he was everything but a morning-person. And now that Crevan’s training was concluded for this year, there was no need for him to get up early.

Another few minutes passed before he came downstairs, alone. I had moved to my healer’s room, kindling a small flame beneath one of my kettles. With winter drawing closer and the days getting colder and colder, I had to stock up on the cold and fever medicine. That was where Geralt found me as I grinded dried herbs to a powder that I’d mix with oil into a paste – dissolved in hot water and soaked into a rag it’d help against fever and headaches. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder, having to bend down far to do that.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, voice still husky from sleep. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to my jaw.

“Morning, minne,” I laughed, his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of my neck, “Slept well?”

“Hmm, but can you imagine the disappointment when I didn’t see you when I woke up?”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I also felt as if Crevan didn’t want me there,” I chuckled, setting mortar and pestle aside and turned around.

“What do you mean?” Confusion was written all over his face. “You know he would nev-”

Chuckling, I put a hand on his cheek, causing him to stop mid-sentence. “I woke up with his foot in my back. He’s a fighter through and through. I almost fell out of bed.”

This caused Geralt to laugh, not only chuckle, but really laugh. Oh how my heart swelled at that sound. Before I had met him, I didn’t know one could love a person this much; and now he had gifted me with another person to love unconditionally.

“He’s still asleep, isn’t he?” I asked after a moment of just admiring the little dimples on my husband’s face as he smiled.

“Hmm, like a rock. He woke up a few more times last night. It’ll probably be a while until he wakes up.” He said the last part with a suggestive grin.

“I’m working, Geralt!” gasped in fake shock and turned around, grabbing mortar and pestle for emphasis, and continued grinding the herbs until they were a fine powder. It didn’t stop him, though. Oh no. Maybe it even encouraged him. He dipped his head down and started kissing his way from my shoulder up my neck, feather-light at first, growing more demanding with inch his lips covered. And fuck, it felt good. Still, I concentrated on the task at hand, or at least I tried to. With shaking hands I reached out for the amphora of rosemary oil, but quickly sat it down again as it began to slip from my grip. Defeated, I gripped onto the edge of the counter in front of me and arched into Geralt’s touch, craning my neck to give him better access.

“Weren’t you working?” he growled huskily once he reached my ear, his lips tickling the shell.

“Oh, shut up,” I groaned as I turned to face him again, our lips crashing immediately in a hungry kiss. Geralt pinned me to the counter by my waist and I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him further down towards me, tangling my fingers in his soft mane. The kiss was all-consuming. I lost track of time and space; all my senses could grasp was him. The way his body pressed against mine, the way his hands squeezed my hips, pulling me close to him while still pinning me to the counter, the way his hair felt between my fingers, how his tongue danced with mine, making me release little sighs and moans, how he smelled and tasted even after just waking up… he was perfect, while I was convinced I was gross right now.

We parted for air, slightly panting. Geralt let his hands wander lower, to the back of my thighs, squeezing my bum on his way down, making me gasp as he gave me a mischievous smirk. He was about to lift me to sit on the counter when I stopped him wordlessly, clearing a space for me to sit first – if I knocked over the kettle it wouldn’t do good. Fed up with having to bend down so much, Geralt lifted me, once we could be sure the fire was out of the way. He pushed my thighs apart and stood between them, pressing his body flush against mine. He buried his face in my neck again, nipping and sucking on the previously spared skin.

“What if,” I gasped, swallowing hard before continuing, breathing heavily, “What if he catches us?”

“He won’t. He’s still sleeping. Didn’t even move when I got up,” he groaned against my skin, “Guess I pushed him too far yesterday.”

“But he could wake up,” I fought getting the words out as Geralt continued to nibble on my neck, right below my ear.

“We’ll hear him.”

“No, minne.” My voice was as firm as it could be in my panting, shivering state as I pushed him back gently by the shoulder. “Not-” another pant, “Not here.”

The slight, initial confusion on his face made way for a soft smile now that I finally gave in to my need for him, letting the caution slip. “And where would you want to go, love?”

“The barn. I-” I stopped to take a deep breath to get my panting under control.

“The barn is good,” Geralt groaned against my skin as he buried his face in my neck again, pulling me forwards by my thighs, lifting me off the counter. I clung onto him as he carried me over to the door blindly, only for us to stop dead in our tracks when we reached the front door.

“Mummy? Daddy?” a little voice sounded from behind us.

Fuck.

Before Geralt dropped me, our eyes met, wide. _Sure, we’ll hear him,_ my eyes said, or at least I hoped so. My husband only gave me a slightly sheepish smile as we both turned to face our son. Crevan was standing halfway down the stairs, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, little fox,” I chirped, quickly stepping in front of Geralt to hide the very visible bulge in his trousers from our son’s innocent yet oh so curious eyes, and hoped the flush on my face wouldn’t be that obvious. I doubted it though; my cheeks were burning.

“What are you doing?” Crevan asked.

“We, uh, we were on our way outside to feed the animals,” I rushed out.

But it wasn’t answer enough. “Daddy, why did you carry mummy?” Damn him for being so curious! Couldn’t he sleep just a little bit longer?

“Son, haven’t I told you time and time again that your mother is a wonderful woman and should be treated like a goddess? That is how you should treat your wife, as well, one day,” Geralt quickly explained. I couldn’t help but smile at his words (even though it was sorry excuse for why he had my legs wrapped around his waist, my hands tangled in his hair and his face buried in my neck). Even though he had experienced about the worst things that could happen to you, he was still so full of love – if you were brave enough to break through his hard shell. And this love, he passed on to our son.

Crevan nodded and came down the stairs, still slightly uncertain of the situation, and honestly, I didn’t blame him. Still, I put on a bright smile.

“Alright, who wants breakfast?”


	77. Are They Too Young?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little domestic fluff, crevan's first crush and the promise for smut in the future, what would you want more?
> 
> enjoy, wrote this in one day after being stuck... <3<3<3

Winter came and passed. As soon as the snow melted, Geralt left. He had taken a break from his duties as witcher for far too long. He didn’t like having to leave, most likely missing our son’s birthday, but the creatures out there never rested. He was gone for about a month and came back just in time to drop Crevan off on his first day of school in the village.

Crevan wasn’t as thrilled about it, rather wanting to train fighting with his father than learning how to read and write, but Geralt had told him that if he wanted ‘to be just like daddy, he would have to know how to read and how to do some basic math’. The little fox had groaned at this, but finally budged. Not that it would have made any difference if he didn’t – we’d have him go to school nonetheless – but what also helped was that Ana’s daughter Ellina would go to school with him. Crevan had found a liking in her, more than just friends, his first little girlfriend. It was adorable watching the two of them when she visited, Crevan taking his father’s advice and treating the girl like a goddess. But I guessed, Geralt’s proud smile when he watched them from afar, the two children holding hands, was way cuter.

That’s what they were doing now, sitting on the paddock, watching the horses run around and holding hands. Ana left Ellina with us, so she and her husband could have some time alone together. He had been gone during the winter, and the two of them needed to catch up a little – without their daughter interrupting. I didn’t mind, we were close, I left Crevan with her sometimes as well, when Geralt came home from a job.

I stood at the kitchen window, cutting vegetables for dinner, when a presence stepped up next to me. He wrapped his arms around my middle and rested his chin on my shoulder, like he always did when I was working.

“Look at them, minne,” I cooed, gesturing outside with the knife in my hand, “Look how cute they are. You’ve taught him well.”

“It’s simple respect,” he shrugged, his voice rumbling deeply next to my ear. “Apparently, humans aren’t taught that.”

“Sadly, they’re not,” I sighed, “I guess both our lives would have been different if they were. But maybe then we wouldn’t have met.”

“So it’s a good thing,” Geralt chuckled.

“Hmm, maybe… but honestly, not really. Seeing humans treat each other… Seeing them treat things they don’t understand… Especially how men treat woman…”

“I guess you’re right, my love.” He kissed my exposed shoulder before freeing me of his embrace – much to my dismay – and leaned against the edge of the table behind me. “Have I ever told you about my first monster?”

I put the knife down and turned, leaning my back against the counter, smiling innocently. “Why do I feel like I heard that exact sentence before?” I wondered aloud. “I’m not the first girl you told that story.” I fake pouted at him, then laughed as it dawned on him.

“Roach,” he mumbled, “Back in Blaviken.”

I nodded and stepped up to him, just close enough for him to put his hands on my hips. I wiped my hands on my apron before putting them on his shoulders. “And you were wrong back then, minne,” I breathed, cupping his cheek. He looked up at me, looking like a lost boy, eyes wide and sad, making my heart hurt. “The world needs you. You are a hero to so many people, most of all to Crevan and Jaskier,” I laughed, “To me, and to that girl you saved back then, just as every other person you saved.”

“I’m no hero,” Geralt muttered, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles, “I’m doing what I was made for.”

“Hm,” I hummed, “Yet you still continue even though you have found a way out of that life.”

“I can’t stop doing what I was made for!”

“You were made by your parents to live. Just like we made our son. What they did to you in Kaer Morhen isn’t what you were made for. Still you do it, even when you found a life that simply allows you to live. And that, minne, makes you a hero.”

“Hmm.” His grunt was neither annoyed, nor was it one of agreement.

A shriek startled us apart and we both rushed outside, only to find Ellina running towards us, holding her cheek, Crevan hot on her heels.

“What happened?” Geralt asked sternly before I could. For only the fraction of a second, I was angry with Crevan. The way Ellina held her cheek… He wouldn’t have- no, we would have heard it if he had slapped her. The only other explanation-

“He kissed me!” the girl shouted, her voice somewhere between upset and exhilarated.

I coughed to hide a small giggle that escaped my throat.

“Is that so?” Geralt continued, voice just as stern as before, but I also heard a hint of amusement. “Young man? And did you ask if you could, before?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You never ask mummy!” Came the little boy’s protest.

“Hmhmm, that is because your mummy and I are married for almost twenty years now, the answer will be ‘yes’ most of the time. Believe it or not, I asked your mother before I kissed her for the first time.”

While my husband was chiding Crevan, I concentrated on Ellina. The little girl was blushing bright red and the smile on her face was almost idiotic. She had wanted this. Before this could turn into a lecture, I nudged Geralt in the side. He stopped talking immediately and chuckled.

“Come on, you two, help me feed the animals, leave Nienna to finish dinner so we eat when we’re done.”

With that, they left and I returned to the kitchen, finishing dinner, maybe or maybe not, with the help of a little magic. Vegetables usually didn’t roast that quickly, and neither did meat, especially if there hadn’t been any meat before.

When they come back in, the children were covered in hay and giggled uncontrollably. I just shook my head as they sat down. Dinner went by with a lot of joking and children’s laughter. When we were done, I set up – with that I meant conjured – a bed for Ellina in the main room, in front of the fireplace. The sun started to set and we tucked the children into bed, Geralt dealing with our son, while I sat down on the edge of Ellina’s bed. I pulled the blanket up to her chin and ran my fingers through her hair a couple of times. Something told me she wanted to say something, so I stayed put instead of going back to the kitchen to wash up.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked in a whisper. I nodded. “But you have to promise not to tell my mum.” I nodded again.

“I promise,” I whispered back, “As long as it’s nothing bad.”

“I… I wanted Crevan to kiss me… I didn’t want him to be in trouble for it,” she confessed quietly.

“I know, sweetie, I know. And don’t worry, he isn’t in trouble. Maybe if your father finds out, but that isn’t something that can’t be talked out,” I chuckled, “Sleep now, sweetie. Goodnight.”

She mumbled a ‘goodnight’ back, broken off by a yawn as she closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the blankets. I stood up and went to the kitchen, washing up the dishes from dinner quietly. Geralt didn’t come back, but I heard the floorboards creaking from upstairs. I hurried with my chore and then joined him in our bedroom, watching him as he cleaned his swords – something he hadn’t found time for yet since he returned two weeks ago – sitting on his side of the bed, his back turned towards me.

I crawled up on the bed behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulder as much as I could, leaning my temple against his.

“Hmm, minne?”

“Hm?”

“What is it with my boys and having a thing for older girls? And older girls having a thing for you?” I chuckled.

“Hm, what do you mean?” Geralt asked, setting the sword down and turning to face me.

“Well,” I chuckled, “Ellina is older than Crevan, by a little less than a year. And well, I’m obviously older than you, almost 50 years older.” I paused for a moment, smiling fondly at what the little girl had confessed to me earlier. “You know… she told me she liked him,” I whispered, “But it’s a secret, don’t tell anyone.”

Geralt chuckled and pulled me into his lap. “Aren’t they a little too young?”

“It’s their first crush! Let them be!” I laughed, “I had my first crush too, when I was about their age.”

“Really, who?” Geralt cocked a brow.

“You’ve met him,” I shrugged, smirking.

“No, not…”

“Uh-huh.”

“You had a crush on… the king.”

“He wasn’t king back then,” I shrugged, “And my crush on him didn’t last long.”

“Woman,” Geralt chuckled, “After all these years, you still manage to surprise me.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, crawling out of his lap and into bed, “Would be boring if I didn’t, huh?”

“Maybe, but you could never bore me.”

I just laughed and pulled him to lay down, snuggling into his side while wrapped an arm around me.

“Next time you’ll have to leave, I’ll come with you,” I mumbled after a while, “Ana said she wouldn’t mind watching Crevan for a few weeks and it would make getting him to school a lot easier. And we’d get a little time for ourselves.”

“You know I don’t like it when you put yourself in danger,” Geralt grumbled, tightening his grip on me.

“I’m not some defenceless damsel, you know that. And I’ll be with you, so I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Fine. And some time alone would be great.”

“See?” I chuckled, before yawning and snuggling closer to him, practically lying on his chest now, my legs draped over his. “Goodnight, minne.”

“Goodnight, my love.”


	78. You Need Someone To Watch Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I crawled back out the grave. Sorry for the long wait, but I was stuck with this book, the worked on Breathe, got stuck there and started a new book because I had another idea, and then got stuck there... Plus uni is still stealing my time...  
> Anyway, here's a new chapter, but I don't know how soon the next ones follow, I'll be on vacation with my family in two weeks for two weeks, I'll probably write there, but I won't publish. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a little break from publishing then. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy <3<3<3  
> (next chapter will be on the road, that's a promise)

Ellina stayed with us for a week. Every day, Geralt and I got up early, prepared breakfast and lunch for both children, saddled all three horses and made sure they got to school safely. It was adorable to watch Crevan and Ellina share Cod, to see how the young girl shyly wrapped her arms around my boy’s waist, both of them blushing, unbeknownst to the other. It was also funny because Crevan was slightly shorter than his little lady, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The few hours Geralt and I had before it was time to pick the children back up from school, we spent mostly doing our chores, cleaning the house – something that was actually impossible with these two whirlwinds running around. But of course we also spent a little time for ourselves.

Right now, I was cleaning the windows, and almost fell off the little stool I had to stand on to reach the top ones, and I definitely dropped the rag I was using at the sight in our front yard. My wonderful husband was chopping wood. Not that that was special in itself – he had to do that a lot, I couldn’t, plus he wouldn’t let me – but with the days becoming warmer, the sun becoming stronger and Geralt refusing to wear anything other than black, the hard work quickly made him run hot – hotter than usual. So naturally, he shed of his tunic. He didn’t think anything by it, whereas I… Oh, I’d never tire of that view. Quickly, I made my way downstairs and just leaned against the frame of our front door, shamelessly watching his almost comically large muscles ripple with every movement. He had his back turned towards me, but I knew he could sense me just standing there, my eyes never leaving his glorious form.

“You’re staring, my love,” came a strained chuckle as he brought the axe down yet another time.

“Well, can you blame me?” I just chirped, walking towards the big pile of chopped wood, keeping a safe distance to the still axe-wielding witcher.

“I suppose not,” he grunted. With yet another swing, another log of wood was chopped in two, the halves tumbling off the stump. I eyed the pile; it was a lot.

“Minne, I think we have enough for the next few months,” I said, taking a brave step forwards, laying a soft hand on the axe, pushing it further down gently. With another step closer, he dropped the axe to the ground.

I let my hands run up Geralt’s chest, feeling his muscles twitch at the contact of my – admittedly – cold hands.

“How about I help you get all this in the barn and then you can take a nice bath while I pick up Crevan?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“No,” he said firmly, but gave me a smirk.

“Then what?”

“We’ll bathe first and then I’ll get the logs in the barn while you pick up Crevan.”

With that, Geralt swept me into his arms and carried me inside. When he turned towards the stairs, though, I stopped him.

“Hm?”

“I… it’s a surprise. Go, I’ll be up in just a moment.”

“Don’t take too long.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead before turning and walking up the stairs. I quickly went into my potion kitchen and grabbed a few things before rushing up the stairs as well. When I came up, Geralt was already in the bathroom, waiting, in nothing but his skin. I hadn’t taken that long!

I hid my hands behind my back, making him raise his brows. “Surprise,” I reminded him, “Go wait on the bed, hm? Let me do this for you.” I stepped into the bathroom and kept my back close to the wall, not giving him a chance to peek at what I held in my hands.

“Woman?” he chuckled.

“Geralt, please. If you keep that up, I won’t be able to join you, so go sit on the bed and wait, alright?” I pleaded. Reluctantly, he stared walking towards the door and stopped right in front of me.

“But hurry.”

“Will do,” I chuckled and leaned up to kiss his lips softly, before using my magic to push him out the room and close the door behind him. An amused chuckle sounded from the other side of the door and I sensed him shaking his head.

I sat the things I had gotten from the kitchen on a stool and got to work, filling the tub with steaming water. Once the room was fogged, I grabbed the bundle from the stool and poured about half of its contents into the tub – dried lavender and rose petals. And then the lavender oil. A sweet scent filled the room as I stepped to the door and opened it.

“Okay, come in.” I wouldn’t have to say it twice; Geralt was in front of me in an instant and let me lead him inside, but still gave me a questioning look. “You deserve to be pampered once in a while,” I simply shrug, “And now we have a little time. Now go sit.”

He nodded and did what I said, settling into the large tub and letting out a deep sigh when the hot water soothed his taut muscles. I walked up behind him and freed his hair first, discarding the string on a stool. Kneeling on the ground, I started massaging his shoulders. A deep groan escaped Geralt’s throat as I worked my finders on the tense muscles that soon enough relaxed under my touch.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to join me?” he asked after a moment.

“Did I say that?” I teased, but got up and started unlacing my dress, still standing behind him.

“Come here,” Geralt directed, “I want to see you.”

I did as he asked, walking halfway around the tub as I shed from my dress, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but a thin underdress. This, too, I started unlacing, quick fingers working the strings expertly.

“Do it slowly.”

“We don’t have time for that, minne,” I protested.

“I don’t care. You said you wanted to pamper me, so do as I tell you,” he said with a teasing smirk. I only shook my head and laughed, but slowed my movements, pushing the thin fabric off my shoulders teasingly slow, letting it pool around my ankles. “Now, come here.” Geralt held out a hand for me to take and helped me into the tub, pulling me to sit between his thighs and just held me there.

“You know… this isn’t how I planned this,” I chuckled, making a fruitless attempt to slip from my husband’s grip, but he only pulled me closer.

“Shh, whatever you planned, this is better,” he murmured into my ear and I laughed.

“Wow, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Geralt chuckled now.

“Mhh, okay, but I wasted precious oil for this.”

“I wouldn’t call this ‘waste’.”

I nodded, then rested my head against his shoulder. We soaked in silence for a moment, enjoying some time alone. As the water started to cool, I spoke up again.

“Are there any news from the village?” I asked, “Any new sightings?”

“Not that I have heard of, but I still bet there are. I… I’ll leave next week,” Geralt replied, somewhat reluctant.

“You know I will come with you, right?”

“Nienna,” he sighed in protest, loosening his grip around my waist a little for me to turn around, which I did. “You know I only want you safe.”

“I’ll be safe when I’m with you. I hate it when you are out there and I don’t know where and how you are. And I’m sure as hell won’t let you go alone after what happened last time.”

Geralt nodded, knowing that whatever he’d say, he couldn’t change my mind. “Fine, but stay close and do exactly what I tell you.”

“Gods, as if I have never hunted with you!” I laughed.

“That was a long time ago. You’ve grown slow since then.”

“Oh?” I asked, splashed him and darted out of the tub, not caring at all that I was naked as I ran out of the room. I had barely made it into the bedroom, when two strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against a hard chest.

“Like I said, you’ve grown slow,” Geralt chuckled into my ear.

“Hmm, did I now?” I hummed, “With your reflexes, you should have caught me before I made it out of the tub.”

Geralt let out a deep rumbling laugh and dropped his arms from around me. “Come on, get dressed. Almost time to pick up Crevan.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I teased, turning to face him and cocking a brow.

He grips my shoulders, chuckling. “Only for as long as there are still a few logs to chop.”

“What? No! You’re not doing that! Not after I wasted my precious oil on that bath!” I scolded him, adding, “And especially not when I’m not even there to watch you. You can store them away in the barn, but you’re not picking up that axe again, or I make it disappear! You know I can…”

I was silenced with a kiss and a deep chuckle into my mouth. But I pull back. “I’m warning you. Don’t…”

But Geralt grabbed my head and pulled it towards him again, shutting me up with another kiss. This time, he was the one to pull back first, grinning down at me with my face squished between his large palms.

“Just get dressed. I won’t do it, alright? You happy now?” he chuckled down at me.

“Hmm, yeah. But, I swear, if I come back and find you have not kept your word, I’m going to…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll… uh.”

“You’ll do what?”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Ugh, I hate you sometimes,” I shouted in frustration at my lack of threats.

“No you don’t,” Geralt smiled down at me and took hold of my shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“No… I don’t. But you drive me mad, sometimes!”

Again, Geralt only chuckled. “Hmm, I see it’s really about time we get out into the wild for some time, hm?”

And I, again, groaned in frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell you that ever since you came back from your last job!”

“I know,” he sighed, “But understand that it’s dangerous out there and I don’t want you to get hurt. You said it over and over again that our son needs his father, but Crevan also needs his mother, and I could never forgive myself if I took that from him by some stupid mistake.”

Suddenly, I was completely calm again, that frustration washed away. “Minne,” I whispered, cupping Geralt’s jaw, “I can defend myself. You know that; you’ve trained me. We travelled together before. You know I’m as safe with you as I am at home.”

“You got hurt a plenty of times, always because I wasn’t fast enough.”

“So have you. And always worse than my injuries ever were. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there in Temeria? The day of our wedding? Even in Posada? You could have died! Minne, just… you need someone to come with you. You hate it when I’m in danger, but I hate the thought of you being in danger just as much. But at least, when I’m in danger, I know that you are nearby. When you go out alone, there is no one there to help you.”

Geralt let out a sigh, took my hands in his and led me over to sit on the edge of our bed. Both of us were still dripping with bathwater, our wet hair clinging to our bodies, but neither of us did care.

“My love,” Geralt sighed again, “You know that witchers mostly work alone. Because we work best when we work alone. It might be more dangerous for us, but at least we’re not putting other people in danger. And you know I won’t stop, not when there are only so few of us left.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to stop. I know the world needs you.” I was interrupted by a scoff. “It does. But you need someone to watch your back, and as long as you haven’t found that someone, it’s going to be me, because I just can’t stand it when you’re gone and I don’t even know if you’re still alive.”

“What about Crevan?” Geralt huffed, “I doubt he’ll enjoy a childhood left alone by his parents.”

“He’ll understand. I won’t come with you every time. But he’ll understand this better than his father not coming home one day,” I whispered, trying to calm the witcher down as he grew agitated. I didn’t want to fight; I simply wanted to try getting him to see the things from my side.

Geralt nodded and got off the bed, letting go of my hands. “Get dressed,” he murmured as he started to do the same. Without another word, I went to the bathroom and retrieved a towel for each of us, proceeding to dry myself off before I slipped into a blouse, some breeches and a bodice.

We weren’t done with this conversation, we actually never would be, it would always be the same. No matter how often I would go with him, he’d always say the same things, that it wasn’t safe for me and that our son needed his parents. And I’d always say the same thing, too, that Crevan needed his _parents_ and not just his mother. But right now wasn’t the time to talk this out, not when I had to pick up our son from the village. We’d talk more tomorrow, probably saying the same things we said today.

I left with Shadow and Cod, and came back with the two horses and Crevan. He told us what he had learned in school today and then Geralt trained him a little.

Every day of that week would be the same: we’d get Crevan to school, come back home and do our chores, eventually end up talking about Geralt’s next job, we’d argue about why I had to or why I shouldn’t come with him, and at the end it was time to pick up Crevan again without having come to a conclusion. Geralt would continue training our son and I would continue with my chores. When it was time for bed, Geralt would tell Crevan about one of his many adventures, and when he joined me in bed, we’d just lay there and bask in the presence and the warmth of each other, trying to shut out the world for a moment of peace.

But I’d come with him. I needed to. Not only to make sure he was safe, or that he wasn’t alone, we also needed time for us alone – most of our fights still rooted from sexual frustration.

I’d come with him. I needed to wield my blade once more, even if it may be for the last time; I was part witcher too. And so was Crevan. He’d understand, and we wouldn’t leave him for long. He’d be in good hands, I trust Ana with my life on that. She’d keep him safe as if he was her own. But I just couldn’t let Geralt go out there alone, not only because of the monsters that he hunted or the people that still feared and hated him for what they thought him to be. I couldn’t let him go alone because Yennefer was still out there; they were drawn to each other by those spells, but I would not let that spell take my husband, the father of my son, away from me. And the only way for me to do so is to go with Geralt as often as possible. I wanted to come with him not only to make sure that he was as safe as his job allowed, but also that our family was safe.


	79. On The Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allllllrigght, I'm back!!! Sorry for the long break, was stuck and had other ideas that just wouldn't leave me alone until i finally wrote them.
> 
> Anyway, Geralt and Nienna are back on the road, ready to slay some beasts.
> 
> as always, enjoy and thank you for reading <3<3<3<3<3<3

“Don’t cause any trouble while we’re gone,” Geralt warned our son before pulling him into a tight hug.

“I won’t, dad, I promise,” Crevan whispered, voice muffled by his father’s arms, but still I could hear the lump in his throat, like every time the witcher left. And sure enough, when they parted, the little fox had tears in his eyes.

“Oh, no, dear, come here,” I cooed, holding out my arms, which, within seconds, he accepted, pressing himself close against me. “We’ll be back soon, my dear,” I murmured, stroking his hair, “Be good for us, will you?” I pulled back and kneeled down in front of him, so we were on eye-level. Crevan nodded and I cupped his cheek, wiping a stray tear with my thumb. Quickly, he used his sleeve to dry the others. “I’ll miss you too, my little fox,” I whispered, pulling him in for another tight hug, and he too clung on desperately.

When Crevan pulled back, he gazed at Geralt, eyes wide with question. “When will you come back?”

“I can’t say. Few weeks.”

Crevan bit his lip and nodded, casting his eyes downward. Saying goodbye was always the hardest part about leaving.

“Ana will take good care of you,” I smiled, glancing at the woman, who stood in her doorway, “We’ll come back before you know it.”

The little boy looked up at us. “Come on, Crevan, let your parents leave. The sooner you let them go, the sooner they come back,” Ana’s voice rung from the doorway. Geralt nodded at our son reassuringly, as did I. Slowly, he started to turn, took a few stops towards the house, but ran back to us seconds later. Geralt and I both wrapped our arms around him, whispering reassuringly that we’d be back soon, that he was safe here, and that we’d miss him, too. Tears were shed, but after a few minutes, Crevan was finally ready to let go. With one last squeeze, we parted and Crevan rushed over to Ana, who held him in her arms instead. Geralt and I mounted our horses and waved at our son from their back, telling him again that we would only be gone for a few weeks.

And before we could change our minds, we rode off, galloping along the road to fight the temptation to stay with our child. Only after an hour, we slowed, our heavy hearts now catching up with us.

“You can go back…” Geralt had offered, but I only shook my head. Crevan was safe, Geralt on the other hand, wouldn’t be; wherever we may be going, we were looking for a creature to fight and slay.

“No, I’ll stay with you.”

And with that, we ride on, in silence at first, until we leave the main road.

“Careful now,” Geralt muttered, but I couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“This is not the first time I’m out here with you.” Nevertheless, I kept my eyes open and my ears alert; every noise, every movement could mean a threat.

There were no creatures to encounter in the parts of the forest we rode through, apparently, and we also didn’t find any posters when we returned to the road. It was getting dark and even though I told Geralt over and over again that it wouldn’t be my first time riding through or sleeping the forest at night, that he had been there every time I had done it, he insisted we’d find an inn to spend the night at. Shortly after nightfall, then, we reached a small village.

While Geralt led the horses to the stables, I went inside the tavern, approaching the bar.

“What will it be, dear?” asked the woman behind it, smiling widely at me. Huh, that was a change; people being nice…

“Dinner and a room for two, please. Oh, and two horses in the stable,” I smiled back at her, but when I heard the door open behind me, a chill went through the warm, cheery room.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly and her smile disappeared. She leaned in to whisper, “Be careful around that folk. No no, don’t look now, but they are dangerous,” she warned.

Jaskier could sing as much as he wanted, he would never manage to change the people’s minds about witchers, not completely. Sure, when they heard Geralt’s name, they’d recognize him, but without, he was just another beast that hunted other monsters.

I shook my head at her as I heard heavy footsteps approaching, stopping right behind me.

“That won’t be necessary, he’s with me,” I just told her and shrugged as she paled, staring up at the hooded witcher. Swallowing heavily, she finally tore her gaze off Geralt and turned, grabbing our plates and pushing them towards us on the bar.

“You’ll pay when you leave,” she stated, and I nodded, smiling at her.

After dinner, we went up to our room, both of us silent. It really was hard, being away from Crevan, so much harder than I had expected.

“My love, are you alright,” Geralt asked as he shed of his armour, eyeing me with concern as I sat at the foot of the bed wrapped in a blanket, staring into the fire. I flinched slightly, his deep voice ripping me from my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “It’s just… I didn’t think I would miss him this much. I know he’s safe, but still.”

“You can go home, if you want,” Geralt offered, pulling me in a tight hug, but I shook my head.

“No, I feel like you’ll need me here,” I mumbled into his chest, his scent calming me a little. “Is it always like this?” I whispered after a moment, “When you leave.”

He pulled back, held me at arm’s length, looking at me intently. “Yes. Nienna, I didn’t want this for you. I’ve learned to live with it. If it’s too much, please, go home, because I hate to see you like this.”

But again, I shook my head. “No, I’ll stay with you. I… it’ll go away, eventually. And I want to stay with you. We wanted some time alone, remember?” I chuckled weakly.

That caused Geralt to join in to my chuckle, pulling me to sit on his lap, leaning into his chest sideways. “I would have no problem with taking you at home,” he shrugged.

“What!? No! We can’t do it at home, not with Crevan’s senses! He caught us once, I don’t want to have to explain him a second time.” But I couldn’t help but giggle as he slowly kissed up my shoulder.

“All he did see was my back,” the witcher muttered against my skin.

“And how you were holding me…” I blushed at the memory. “We can’t even sneak away,” I sighed, “He’d find us.”

“Not if you could keep quiet for once,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against my neck.

“Oh, so now I’m the loud one?!” I gasped, turning abruptly to face him, catching him grinning, “As if you don’t turn into a wild animal, huh?”

“So you want to bet, hmm?” Geralt growled as he lowered himself to kneel on the floor in front of me, hands coming up to my knees and pushing them apart. He kissed, nipped and licked a wet trail up my inner thigh, making me gasp.

“Yeah, ah, but,” I put my hands on his shoulder just when he was about to tease me through my underwear, “Not tonight, minne. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

A flash of disappointment washed through his eyes as he got back up and sat on the bed. I understood, it had been a long time since we had some time for us alone. It was hard for us, the both of having a pretty high sex-drive; but with a very curious child at home, even sneaking away was risky.

“Okay,” Geralt rumbled and leaned close to me, capturing my lips in his in a sweet kiss as he scooted us up the bed, lying us down, wrapped up in each other.

“Thank you,” I mumbled against his lips, shuffling a little closer into the cocoon of his warmth, “Good night, minne.”

“Good night, my love.”


	80. Witcher Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this is part one of the hunt. features a corpse-eating monster, and i just thought i put a warning for that because i was trying to describe it quite disgusting...  
> also, protective husband Geralt
> 
> Enjoy <3<3<3<3

The next morning we left the inn and continued our way further north. Just out of town, we left the road, searching in the thicket for any kind of creature, but to no avail. Days passed like that, looking out for threats, and nights in which we relished in the memories of a time before we settled down. Not that we regretted that decision, but we were free back then, just the two of us in the vast wilderness of the Continent.

A week passed till we came to the next town, posters lining the road on both sides. Halting our horses, Geralt jumped off and walked over to one parchment, ripping it off the pole.

“Finally,” he muttered, stomping back over to Roach, mounting her again, and handed me the poster.

 _Witcher wanted. 2500 crowns reward._ It read.

“They don’t say what it is?” I frowned, flipping the parchment over, hoping to find more information of the back – nothing. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” my husband muttered as he spurred his mare, making me do the same as we rode into town.

The people cleared the way for us, jumping from the mainroad to squeeze into the small wooden stalls lining the path. They stared at us, in both fear and awe, two hooded, armed figures. A man came running towards us, halting just before our horses’ hooves when he gripped the reins tightly to bring them to a stop.

“Witcher!” the man shouted, waving his arms through the air, “Thank the Gods you’re here!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geralt muttered, tossing the man the crumpled piece of parchment, “This yours?”

“Yes, yes, please, Witcher, please follow me,” the man rambled as Geralt and I both dismounted our horses, “You and your – ah…”

“I’m his wife,” I smiled at the man with an annoyed edge to my voice. I was used to people assuming I was Geralt’s whore, but that didn’t mean it didn’t piss me off every single time. So I tended to correct them before they could take that word in their mouth.

“Very well. Please, please come.”

Waving his arms around in various gestures all meaning ‘follow me’, he led us to the town hall. First, he showed us the stables, ensuring us that Roach and Shadow would be taken good care of, before he brought us to a – compared to the rest of the small town – luxurious office.

“Please, sit, Witcher. And, my lady,” he said, taking his own seat behind the massive oak desk. Nodding a thanks, I lowered myself to the cushioned chair, sighing quietly at the comfort of sitting on something else than a saddle for the first time this week. Geralt, on the other hand, remained standing.

“What is this all about?” he demanded with a frown.

Fidgeting with his hands, the alderman shot me a helpless look, then faced Geralt again, sighing. “We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. The… thing… it digs up our cemetery, one grave after the other. All we find is shards of bones and broken coffins,” the old man explains hesitantly, turning white as a sheet as something flashed through his eyes – horror. He gaped for a moment, trying to find words to continue, but for a while, the room was dead silent, apart from the quiet creaking of the chair when Geralt finally lowered himself.

“A group of four brave men volunteered to find out what it was, but none of them returned. It must have gotten them, too,” the alderman finally speaks. In his eyes, I could see the scene where they found traces of a fight: giant footprints and more than one pool of blood, swords and shards of broken bones.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, “About your son.”

“How did y-” he asked, eyes wide from shock now.

“You were thinking about him,” I shrugged, my voice gentle, “I’m sure he did not have to suffer for long.”

My attempt to comfort the grieving father was thrown out the window when Geralt spoke up.

“Doubt that. It’s a necrophage. They’re not known for killing quickly,” the witcher’s deep voice rumbled through the room. I shot him a quick glare, which he just answered with a shrug. He’s never been a ‘spoon full of sugar…’ type of person, not even with our own son. “Why so much coin?” he asked, facing the alderman again.

“Our graves are sacred! This beast is defiling them, night after night. And it claimed the lives of innocent men. Witcher, this is important to us. And a dangerous creature as well; the very first one to haunt our town. We have no experience. And the matter is urgent. We were hoping a high pay would lead a witcher here, and here you are!”

Geralt nodded along with the man’s words. “So you could cut the pay after the job is done?” he accused. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d be deprived of what he was owed; his suspicion wasn’t entirely ill-placed.

“No! Of course not!” the alderman lifted his hand at the accusation, “We keep to our word.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed and nodded curtly.

“For how long has the creature been here,” I asked carefully, trying up to loosen the tense situation.

“We – ah – we found the first dug up graves about four or five months ago, close to the church at first, but they keep spreading. We think it lives in the crypt, no idea for how long it’s been in there.”

“Mhmhh, thank you.” I got up. “We should get going, take a look before nightfall.”

With a grunt, Geralt followed me outside, grabbed me by the arm and turned me to face him, his eyes narrowed and lips set in a thin line.

“You’re not going there,” he stated.

“I wha-?!”

“You go and look for an inn, I’ll go take a look.”

“No, Geralt. I came with you because you need help. I won’t sit still in some tavern while you are out there risking your life. I don’t want this to end like our wedding night! I’ll come with you, end of discussion.”

With a sigh, he released my arm and started stomping off in the direction of the small church. I hurried to keep up with him. He was doing that on purpose; he knew that he was too fast for me with his long legs. And I knew why he was doing that – to protect me – but right now, it pissed me off.

“Geralt,” I hissed, “For fuck’s sake! Wait!”

With a huff, he stood and I ran up to him.

“Thanks,” I muttered and we continued walking, slower now, until we reached the church.

“Can you at least look at the graves further away from the crypt?” my husband questioned in a huff.

“Mhmhh,” I hummed in return, my eyes already scanning the graveyard – quite big for such a small town.

With a glance at the sky, Geralt took hold of my arm, making me focus back on him. “Hurry, alright. Back here in ten minutes. I want you to be gone from here before dusk.”

“I know,” I breathed. Better to agree with him than to argue. Still, I had to supress the urge to roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness. There was nothing I could do about that, though. I could sense nervousness on him, a constant pressure to make sure I was safe. With a sigh, I reached my hands to his face. “Minne, look at me. And listen. Concentrate on the job. This is not any different from when you go alone, alright? I know what I’m doing; I know how to defend myself. And I’m pretty sure my magic is stronger than yours. So just… focus.”

“Hm,” he huffed, not relaxing one bit. Honestly, what did I expect?

I pulled him down for a deep kiss in a last attempt to calm him.

“What was that for?” he asked in a daze as I pulled back. Smirking, I just shrugged and set a foot into the cemetery, making my way to the far side, away from the crypt.

I found just what the alderman had described: dug up graves, destroyed coffins and shattered remainders of bones. Row after row looked like that, tombstones hanging in weird angles, sometimes threatening to fall into the gaping hole, the only indicator of the person that once was buried there was the name engraved in stone, everything else just… gone.

Crouching down next to one grave, I inspected the edge a little further, hoping to find out which creature it was exactly to haunt this poor town. Scratches left by large hands with long nails, clawmarks left by a huge beast, no doubt. The dirt it dug up littered a radius of a few yards, shattered pieces of wood proving one thing; the creature was strong, no doubt. I leaned in just a little closer, when –

“Nienna?” the witcher’s shout rang through my ears, making my head snap up. Quickly, I ran back to the gate to meet with Geralt.

“I know what it is,” I panted slightly from my sprint, “A gr-”

“Graveir,” Geralt and I spoke at the same time, “And it wakes us soon, so we better get going.”

He gently shoved me to move, but after a few steps, I stopped abruptly, turning around just as fast.

“We should stay here. Watch it. Just to make sure what exactly we’re dealing with,” I suggested, and before Geralt could protest, I added, “Outside the graveyard grounds.”

He seemed to consider for a moment, taking in the whole area, then focusing on me.

“Fine. Over there, the bushes.” He pointed to a large scrub just by the gate. “I’ll stay here; you go tell the alderman that we’re staying here. Tell them they should stay at home and that we’re dealing with a -”

“I know, I know, minne,” I smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “How many times do I have to tell you-?”

“That it’s not your first time… Yeah, I know, but-” he interrupted, only to be interrupted by me.

“No ‘but’s, I know what I’m doing; I’ve been around for a little longer than you, and I dealt pretty well in that time, you know.”

Finally, _finally_ , my constant reassurance seemed to break through his tense shell. He smiled at me, eyes twinkling with a memory of what felt like another life.

“Yeah, I know. How could I ever forget? That feisty little kitten, either brave of stupid enough to attack a witcher from behind,” he chuckled.

“Hey, I did good. If it hadn’t been for that damn wall…” I laughed back, cocking a brow at him as his hand came to rest on my hips.

“Wishful thinking,” he grinned, “And now you should hurry. I want you back here when that thing wakes up, okay?” I nodded. “And bring blankets, the night’s gonna be cold.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I have a human furnace,” I tease, getting up on my tippy toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Only reluctantly, Geralt lets go of me, but when he does, I jog down the path we came, back to the small town.

I knocked at the alderman’s office, but no answer.

“Shit,” I muttered, turning on my heels and hurrying over to the stables, grabbing Geralt and my bags. A huff came from Roach and I patted the side of her neck. “I know, girl,” I whispered soothingly, “But you two have to stay here for tonight. We’ll come and get you in the morning, alright?”

Shadow nodded her head lightly and I laughed, gently petting her soft muzzle. She licked at my hand and I quickly retrieved two apples, feeding one to each of them. “Be good, yeah?” both of them blew through their noses. “Good,” I smiled and rushed out of the stables.

Where could the alderman be? Giving it a try, I entered the tavern with determined steps. And to my luck, I found him sitting at the counter, a pint of beer standing just by his hand. Quickly, I stepped up at him, telling him everything Geralt had told me to. “Make sure no one comes close to the graveyard, not today and not tomorrow.”

He nodded, a little drunkenly. When I made my way back outside, I heard him yell over the tavern-cheer, ordering his people to stay at home for the next day and to stay away from the cemetery.

“Here,” I huffed a whisper as I crawled into the large scrub, joining my husband.

“Took you quite long,” he commented, slight worry lacing his voice, mirrored my his eyes.

“Sorry, the alderman wasn’t where he should have been,” I shrugged, “oh, and I got this.” I handed him his satchel with a knowing smile.

“Thanks,” Geralt whispered, taking the bag from my hand and pulled out three vials.

While the witcher did his job, I set up a little camp for us, making sure to move as little as I could, not wanting the Graveir to notice us, in case it had left the crypt without us knowing.

Just as the last rays of the sun disappeared, a bone-chilling crunching sound echoed over the open. And then we saw it, a large, burly beast with big hands and a proportionally small head emerged from the church’s backdoor. I held my breath for a moment, unsure if it would hear us, but when Geralt uncorked the first vial of the night with a plop, and the creature didn’t snap its ugly head in our direction and came charging at us, I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

We watched for a while, seeing the thing dig up the first grave and devour the corpse. In this moment, I was glad my vision wasn’t as sharp as my husband’s. The sickening cracking and slurping sounds, produced by the Graveir sucking marrow out of rotting was enough to make my stomach turn; with a visual it would be straight down horrifying.

Despite the slight nausea churning my stomach, I was overcome with sudden tiredness and rolled up on the mat I had put out, my back pressed against Geralt’s side in an attempt to soak up as much of his warmth as I could. The night proving itself to bring quiet a chilling wind that even the bush couldn’t protect us from. With a low chuckle, Geralt covered me up with a blanket, positioning himself in a way that he could both watch the Graveir and wrap me up in his warm body.

“Thank you,” I whispered in a yawn, trying to tune out the horrible sounds coming from the graveyard. Back then, these sounds wouldn’t have fazed me, but being a mother must have changed me more than I realized.

It went on for hours, the crunching, the cracking, the slurping, the digging, an occasional roar when the bounty was meek. The moon stood high, its light breaking even through the thick crown of leaves surrounding us. By now, I had turned in Geralt’s arms, facing away from the monster that would definitely follow me in my dreams tonight. It wasn’t that I was scared – I have faced worse monsters, both creature and human; as had Geralt. It was more the thought that this thing lived off corpses. Not humans that it had killed beforehand, just to eat them, but people that had been buried, sometimes for years! Just the thought that even after your death, you wouldn’t be safe in this world, had something gravely unsettling.

But the soft moonlight painting Geralt’s face in all shades of silvery shadow calmed me immensely. His eyes flicking to mine from time to time soothed my racing mind and churning stomach. He had taken his potion, his eyes were onyx, no trace of the soft gold I loves so much and called home to be found in them. The paleness of his skin made the black of his eyes stand out even more, just as it did with the dark veins that cris-crossed wildly beneath the dark orbs. But even when he looked like that, once his gaze landed on me, it held softness. Maybe it was a softness only I was able to see, but it was there, making me feel safe, seeing the beast he was made to be and knowing he’d do everything in his might to protect the people he loved.

Another yawn ripped through my body and I quickly covered my mouth to stifle it, not wanting the Graveir to realize it’s being watched. Strong arms pulled me closer against a warm chest, big hands stroking my back soothingly.

“You should sleep, my love,” Geralt whispered, tugging the blanket up to my chin and nuzzling my head into his neck to keep my exposed skin warm.

“You sure?” My words were slurred by sleep slowly but surely consuming my mind and body, but if he needed me to stay awake, I would fight it.

“I am. Look at you, you’re already half sleeping. Look, I’ll be fine, and I don’t want you to be all grumpy tomorrow, okay? That’s my job.”

I chuckled tiredly, pressing myself closer against him until I couldn’t go further. “I love you,” I whispered and the moment the last word left my lips, I fell into a deep slumber.


	81. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I can't stop starting my chapters with waking up and ending them with falling asleep.  
> Also, some smut. More like gentle lovemaking.   
> (The thing with the baby is just hinting at Crevan becoming a big brother for Ciri later on)
> 
> Enjoy <3<3<3<3

I woke with the first sunlight, groaning at the discomfort of the night, a root having poked in my side the entire time.

“Morning,” Geralt chuckled, and I groaned again, slowly starting to sit up, “Slept well?” I shot him a glare, shaking my head and then wincing when my neck protested. “Ohh, darling,” Geralt cooed, holding his arms out. He knew that if he kept mocking me, I would be pissed the whole day. Tiredly, I slumped into his arms, sighing when he massaged the sore spots.

“Morning,” I finally muttered, “How many more graves did that thing…?”

“Three, then it went back into the crypt. It’s limping on the left foot. Should be an easy kill. Quite old, but very hungry,” Geralt filled me in while we packed up our camp. When we emerged from the scrub, I squinted at the light of the rising sun, still too bright after a night spent in the total darkness of being wrapped up in the witcher’s arms.

Hand in hand, we made our way back to town. I had tried to take my bag from Geralt multiple times, but he refused. He ended up grabbing my hand tightly, so I couldn’t try anymore, insisting that I shouldn’t carry the heavy bags after having slept badly. That he hadn’t slept at all didn’t seem to matter. We got Roach and Shadow from the stables at the town hall and brought them over to the inn’s stables instead.

“Let’s get some breakfast, a bath and then some sleep, hm?” Geralt murmured on our way there.

“Sounds perfect,” I agreed, “But gimme my bag now!”

Chuckling, he finally gave in.

We entered the empty tavern, the innkeeper greeting us friendly as we sat down at the bar.

“What can I get ye, Witcher?” he asked.

“Some bread and cheese,” he answered for the two of us.

“And a room,” I added, “Oh, and our horses are in the stables.”

“They will be staying there for free.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled surprised, nibbling on a piece of fresh bread, having to hold back a moan as it was still warm. You rarely were allowed this luxury at an inn, not when witchers were still looked on badly.

“Tis nothing. My boy… he fell victim to the creature. It’s the least I can do. You will make it pay for what it has done to us? Will you, Witcher?”

“I’ll do what I have to, to stop it from terrorizing your town, no more, no less,” Geralt spoke in his deep, rumbling voice.

“We appreciate that, Witcher. We truly do,” the innkeeper continued, “You spent the night there, haven’t you?”

“We have,” my husband nodded, taking a bite from his bread, “The creature you’re dealing with; a Graveir. This one is old. I’ll go back tonight, and put an end to this.”

“Thank you, Witcher.”

“It’s the job,” he shrugged. And then the innkeeper let us be, to finish our breakfast in silence. My mood was still sour from the little amount of sleep I had gotten, that it was bad made it worse. I couldn’t imagine how it had been on Geralt, but he kept it together quite well.

We finished eating and went up to our room. I filled the bath while Geralt shed of his armour, the heavy leather falling to the ground with a thud. He came over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind as I stared at the few bubbles floating on the water’s surface, popping one after the other.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked softly, resting his chin on my shoulder, “Is it about Crevan?”

“No,” I shook my head, then sighed, “It’s about the Graveir. It made me think just… You’re never really safe in this world, not even after you’re dead. I mean, I knew that there were monsters that lived off rotting corpses, but this is the first time I had seen it… It just… It hit me, you know?”

Geralt pressed his lips to my temple and just kept them there for a moment. “Yeah, I felt the same when I hunted my first ghoul,” he chuckled against my skin, “I was so young back then; barely a year out of Kaer Morhen.”

“Mhh, I wish I could have seen you,” I laughed, my mood lifted at the thought of this burly man being leaner and baby-faced.

“To see a single ghoul almost get the better of me? I doubt that,” he smiled, “Now come on before the water gets cold, hm?”

I nodded and smiled as he let go and stood next to me instead, tugging his tunic out of his trousers. “I have to get a few things first, but you go in,” I breathed in a soft voice, making him turn to look at me, slight confusion written over his handsome features.

“What things?”

“Towels, maybe,” I laughed, “Soap, a rag; oh and you definitely need to shave.” With a teasing smile, I ran my finger along his jaw, the stubble having grown out a lot since we left home.

“But hurry,” Geralt grunted a chuckle and I flitted off to my bag, retrieving said things and then went over to my husband’s bag to get his shaving gear as well. Once I had everything, I turned, just in time to see the witcher climb into the tub, bared in all his glory – a sight that still stole my breath every time I saw him.

I bit my lip as I sauntered over, setting the stuff down on a stool. Of course Geralt caught on to what I was doing, a glint in his mesmerizing golden eyes giving him away, even if he pretended to just wanting to enjoy the bath. Slowly, I loosened my corset and slipped out of it, throwing it across the room to land on the bed.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, love,” the witcher warned, but I just smiled.

“Oh, but I’m planning to finish it,” I purred as I kicked off my boots, turned and shoved them away. I could hear a shift in his breathing, becoming slightly quicker as I bent over and started sliding my breeches over the curve of my behind, revealing to bare skin underneath.

“Oh you little minx,” Geralt groaned and I stood up straight, kicking off the trousers while I turned.

“Like what you see, minne?”

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that, right?” he muttered while reaching out to take off my blouse, but I quickly jumped back.

“Uh, uh, uh. Patience, Witcher.”

Geralt let out a groan of frustration and I grinned, finally discarding of my blouse. With a sigh, I step into the tub, the hot water feeling heavenly against my sore muscles. I was about to lower myself to sit with my back towards Geralt, when he grabbed my waist and turned me around.

“Oh no, love, you want to finish what you started, remember?” he growled when he pulled me to straddle his thick thighs, his member standing alert, hard and pulsing against his lower abdomen, and now also against mine.

“Mhh, how could I forget?” I hummed, reaching below the water’s surface to stroke him gently. He jerked between my fingers, stirring to live with the promise of being wrapped in my silken walls once again. A hunger awoke within me, burning through my core, but I wasn’t quite done teasing him yet.

But apparently, my husband was. He grabbed me by the neck with one hand, by the hip with the other, bringing my mouth to his while he lifted me to kneel up.

“You know how much I hate being teased,” he growled against my lips and I grinned, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged gently.

“And you know how much I love teasing you, minne,” I retorted, grinning.

With a low grunt, Geralt pushed me down, slowly, aware of his size and how long it had been since he had last entered me. A gasp left my lips as I felt him stretch me out and my hands came up to clutch his shoulders.

“You seem to forget, though, that I always make you pay for it,” he whispered into my ear huskily before nibbling on the tender skin beneath.

“Maybe, that is what I want?” I purred in return and let out a yelp when Geralt pushed his hips up while holding mine down, bottoming out at once. I clenched hard around him, my walls slowly reacquainting with the stretch of the hefty cock inside me. And then we just sat there for a moment, heavy breath mingling. A twinge of pain ripped through me when Geralt started moving, and of course he noticed and immediately halted, hand coming up to caress my cheek.

“Are you alright, my love?” he whispered concerned, and I nodded, biting my lip.

“It’… I’m fine. It’s just been a while and you’re… well, huge. But really, I’m fine, minne.”

He said nothing, just guided my lips to his and claimed them slowly, slippery tongue gliding along the seam, asking for entrance. I didn’t deny. He let his tongue invade my hot cavern, stroking against my tongue expertly, eliciting a deep sigh from me. As I relished in his taste and talents, I slowly began rocking my hips in his lap, a hum of pleasure escaping both of us. Geralt let his hand slide from my cheek to the side of my throat, thumb resting against my jaw, the other fingers digging their tips into my scalp.

Everything was slow as I rolled my hips into him, a hand coming to my lower back to support my movements. When I tried to pick up my pace, the hand stopped me.

“Let’s keep it slow,” Geralt murmured into my mouth, then resumed kissing me deeply.

It didn’t take long for the coil in my belly to grow, too long since I felt him. And the ragged breathing coming from my husband told me he felt the same. Keeping the pace, I pressed myself further down on him, taking every single inch of his length as we grinded our pelvises together. Deep sighs and the gentle sloshing of the water was all that was heard in the room. There was no need for words, telling one another how good we felt; we were one. The soft touches and our deep kisses told the other how we felt.

I felt Geralt swell within me, his hips bucking slightly as his cock twitched with the nearing of his high. I too was close, the coil in my belly burning, threatening to snap. Still, we kept the pace slow. My fingers slid into Geralt’s hair, tugging gently as his lips wandered down my throat, leaving little marks behind. He nibbled and sucked on my collarbone, the hand that rested on my cheek moving to knead my aching breast.

“Minne,” I sighed as my walls fluttered around him, and a second later the coil inside me snapped, my core clenching hard around Geralt, throwing him over the edge as well. I felt him spill himself deep inside me, his seed coating my walls, an invisible mark that I was his for only to two of us to know. We came with breathy groans of each other’s names, rocking our bodies together to prolong this intense and intimate moment.

Once I was completely spent, I let myself collapse against his chest. Geralt chuckled and stroked my back as I tried to catch my breath. For a while, we just sat there wordlessly, basking in our bliss and the presence of each other. I felt his seed wallow inside me and a thought hit me.

“What if we had another child?” I asked quietly.

“Do you want another?” Geralt asked back, voice gentle.

“I don’t know… But what if it happened?”

“Guess then we don’t have another choice, do we?”

I shook my head against his shoulder. “Guess we don’t. But I bet Crevan would be over the moon if we told him he’d be a big brother,” I smiled.

Geralt chuckled at that, “He would. But do you think you could deal with him and a baby? Because this time, I won’t be able to stay.”

“No, I know,” I sighed, “It was just a thought, though. I don’t know if we’d even manage to make another. Remember, it took us six year of trying till we had Crevan?”

“Yeah, I know. But why did you ask, then?”

I blushed a little at Geralt’s question, giggling I answered, “‘Cos I can feel you inside me.”

“And your first thought was that my seed could take?” Geralt chuckled teasingly.

I pulled back and pouted at him. “Yeah, that’s usually what happens if a man comes inside a woman, you know.”

“I am joking, my love,” he smiled and cupped my face in his large, warm hands, “Come on, let’s get washed up, hm?”

I nodded the best as I could and rose on my knees, making him slip out of me. Immediately, the milky liquid tinted the water and I laughed, watching my husband stare with fascination as his seed seeped into the bathwater.

“Like what you see?” I giggled and his eyes snapped to mine with a proud smile.

“Definitely. I was just reminded that you are mine, Nienna. My beautiful wife.”

“Oh? You don’t see that when we’re at home? When I take care of _your_ son? When I wash _your_ clothes?” My voice was accusing, but my grin was teasing.

“Not like in moments like this,” he grinned back, “Don’t get this wrong, Crevan is my world, but sometimes I miss not having to care about where I fuck you.”

“Mhh, yeah, I miss that too, not gonna lie,” I laughed and then lowered my eyes back to the water, tinged with our mixed fluids.

“Let’s get out,” Geralt suggested, but I shook my head.

“We haven’t washed, and you haven’t shaved,” I argued while holding my hand out above the water, the white shadow disappearing. We washed up quickly, not without the occasional teasing. Once we were done, I let Geralt soak in the tub some more while I got out and shaved that damned beard.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved his stubble and its scratch on my skin. I preferred it to him being completely clean-shaven, but the beginning of a beard… whenever we touched it left my skin uncomfortably raw.

He relaxed against the tub while I let the sharp knife run along his soaped jaw. In all honesty, little things like this made my heart swell with adoration for my man. As a witcher, he was used to not being able to trust anyone. He was used to violence and hatred. The fact that he trusted me enough to let me do a task like the one at hand, his vulnerable throat exposed like this, was more special to me than a thousand love-confessions.

Once done, Geralt climbed out of the bathtub, dried off and went straight to bed, where I gladly joined him, nuzzling up in his arms and chest, basking in his warmth and gentle touch.

“If I asked you to stay here tonight…” he started.

“You should know that I would say no,” I finished, determined not to let him face the Graveir alone. It might be old, but it’s still very strong and at least twice the size of the witcher. There is no way in hell I would let him go alone.

“I feared you’d say that,” Geralt sighed but left it at that, “Just promise you’ll stay back and only step in when I tell you to. You’ll do exactly as I say, understood?”

“Yes, I understand. And I promise, Geralt, I’ll do as you say. As long as you promise not to wait till the last moment to say you need help.”

“Alright, I promise. And now, sleep. Tonight will be a long night.”

With that, Geralt closed his eyes and within minutes, his soft filled the room. Running my hand up and down his broad chest gently, the feel of his slow, steady breath and heartbeat against my fingertips soothing me into a deep slumber.


	82. Graverobber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> updating this story will be slower now. earlier this year i made a tumblr for my writing (mostly smut) so i have a lot of wip rn.
> 
> anyways... enjoy <3<3<3<3<3<3

I woke up in the early afternoon, the witcher still fast asleep. I watched him for a while, smiling to myself at how peaceful he looked. Tonight I’d see the monster in him, the side of him that people feared – and that for a reason. So naturally, I enjoyed seeing him all calm and peaceful.

He had rolled over on his side, left arm stretched out to act as my pillow, the right one lazily draped over my waist. Careful not to disturb his slumber, I lifted my hand and let my fingertips ghost along his strong jaw and defined cheekbones, caressing every little scar. I wanted so badly to kiss them, but I was afraid I’d wake him. And he deserved his sleep, needed it. Tonight would be exhausting, for sure, and he hadn’t slept last night. If I woke him now, I would probably but us in danger later tonight.

But after a while, I couldn’t lie still anymore, as enchanting as my view was. Carefully, I slipped out from Geralt’s arms; easier said than done. Once I started moving, he tightened his grip on me subconsciously. It took me a few minutes of writhing to set myself free. Quietly, I got dressed and slipped out of the room to get some lunch for the two of us.

When I came back up with a tray in my hands, Geralt had just stirred, sleepy fingers searching for my warmth on the sheets. Silently, I set the tray down and waited for him to fully wake. After just a moment, the witcher opened his eyes and searched to room, his back still turned towards me. I had to bite back a giggle. Seeing him like this was foreign even to me. Usually he woke before I did, I rarely experienced him this disoriented.

“I’m here, minne,” I whispered, unable to remain silent anymore. Immediately, he turned, catching my eyes with a still slightly worried look on his face, which made me laugh softly. “I got you something to eat.” I walked over to his side, carrying the tray.

“What time is it?” he rasped in his sleepy voice.

“Few hours till dusk. Enough time for us to get there and set up a plan.”

Geralt nodded and grabbed the pint of ale, downing half of it with just a few gulps. I shook my head, laughing. “Easy, will you. The last thing we need is you being drunk.”

“It takes a lot more than just a little ale to get me drunk, love,” the witcher chuckled, putting the pint down, “You should know that.”

***

As dusk was threatening to fall, Geralt and I made our way to the graveyard. The alderman had arranged a small send-off at the tavern, the townsfolk wishing us luck and thanking the witcher for his service – a rare gesture, and in all honesty, it felt more than weird. We took Roach and Shadow with us, a young man had volunteered to wait with them, standing a third of the way away from the graveyard.

We hid behind a row of tombstones not too far away from the graves that would probably be next on the Graveir’s menu, but also not too close. The plan was to surprise it from behind when it was just about to feed.

Perched behind the stones, we waited with drawn swords, the silver and steel glinting in the soft light of the moon as it began its slow rise. An owl cooed and the scrub rustled, a twig cracking in the distance. It was like a horror story you told children.

When the moon stood high, the dragging sound we heard last night sounded over the open. The Graveir had awoken, its heavy steps thundering through our sharp ears. A cold breeze carried the stench of rotting corpses to us, as the beast emerged from the crypt, large and ugly. I shuddered at the sight, seeing the thing from so much closer. Geralt seemed to be unfazed by, but then again, he hunted these kind of creatures for all his life.

“Stay here,” Geralt whispered with a warning undertone, “Remember, only wh-”

“When you call me, yeah, I know,” I finished for him, grabbed the collar of his armour and drew him in close for a quick kiss before pushing him away gently, “Now get this thing.”

He just gave me a sharp nod and a piercing glare, reminding me that I should stay put, while he crawled up to hide behind another tombstone guarding an empty grave.

I held my breath as the Graveir stomped past me, my grip around the handle tightening. A short peek over my shoulder made my blood freeze. It’s been long since I last stood face to face with a monster. And this fella was an ugly, large thing.

I took deep, silent breaths as the Graveir found the grave that hosted his dinner tonight. But it wouldn’t even get to have its last meal, so much was certain. Once it was distracted with digging up the dirt, Geralt snuck up behind, silver blade shining in the moonlight, raised and ready to strike. And strike he did. A long gash along the beast’s back, making the thing roar in pain. The sound ripped through the night sky and a flock of panicked birds rose from their beds in the surrounding trees.

The monster turned and lunged for the Witcher, but Geralt spun out of its reach, swinging his sword and slicing its wrist. Another roar of pain. But the wounds didn’t weaken the beast, they only made it angry. Over and over it lunged at Geralt. He dodged it every time, slicing and cutting at its thick skin, wounding it, but there were some very close calls here and there. I watched with baited breath, waiting for my husband to give me a sign, but he didn’t. he kept fighting the beast on his own.

Its blood soiled the muddy ground, the stench making me gag. I really had gotten used to our peaceful life, forgetting what it was like to fight.

With horror, I watched as the Graveir pushed Geralt further back towards a grave with a large headstone. And then, with one strong swing of its arm, it sent him flying against the stone. A weak grunt escaped the Witcher’s lips as his head hit against the hard surface and his eyes grew droopy. The beast stood above him, ready to crush Geralt with its fist. Geralt didn’t give me a sign, but I couldn’t just watch him being killed.

Panicked, I jumped out of my hidingspot, my own sword raised.

“Hey, ugly bastard!” I yelled. The Graveir whipped around, roaring, and started to charge at me. Before it could reach me, I held out my hand and created a barrier, which the beast ran straight into, falling on its back with a grunt. But it got up just as quick, surprising for its size, enraged by the pain and the fact that I came between him and his dinner.

It swung its arm at me, but I spun out of the way, brought my blade down and cut its hand clean off. It roared again and stumbled a few steps back. I was about to swing my blade again, but halted my movements when I heard a sickening squelching sound, followed by gurgling. The bloodied tip of Geralt's silver sword poked out from the beast’s throat. Then it was pulled out and the Graveir dropped to its knees. Geralt swung his blade on last time and cut of the creature’s head, making blood splatter into all directions. I cringed a little when I felt the hot, foul smelling liquid slash onto my face, but I shook it off.

The lifeless, headless body of the monster fell to the ground directly between Geralt and I. he was swaying on his feet a little, blood trickling down the side of his head and neck, but his eyes were clear and burning.

“I told you to wait for my sign!” he spat, but his words were slurred ever so slightly.

“And watch you be killed?!” I shouted back, worried at his current state. Geralt says nothing and just stomps past the stinking corpse. Before he could even reach me, his knees gave out and he stumbled slightly. Without much thinking, I rushed forward to catch my husband, huffing when his whole weight leaned onto me. With a quiet groan, he steadied himself, but kept his arm around my shoulders while I supported him. we took a few steps away from the dead body, before I sat Geralt down.

“You need to be completely honest with me,” I told him firmly while inspecting the wound on his temple, “How bad is it?”

“No too – ah!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, pulling my finger back from the swelling. “Can you walk?”

“Hm.”

“Alright, come on. We just have to get to the horses. And back at the inn I’ll take care of that.”

The way back to the horses was hard. Geralt kept stumbling and I wasn’t strong enough to support him, really, so we ended up falling a few times. Luckily the young stable boy came to help us when he saw us struggling. Together, we heaved Geralt on top of Roach, where he slumped down against his mare’s neck.

Back at the inn, I sat Geralt down on a chair and undressed him so I could assess all the damage done and start my treatment. He had a few bruises on his back, nothing too wild. It was his drowsy state that alarmed me most. The wound on his temple kept bleeding, bump forming, turning blue.

“This is going to hurt now,” I warned as I brought a cloth drenched in potion to the wound, dabbing at the bump. Geralt groaned, hands shooting up to my hips to grab onto something, anything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered and dropped the bloodied rag to the floor, cradling my husband’s face instead. He was barely conscious and looked at me with tired eyes. “I just have to bandage it your head and then you can sleep,” I promised, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Geralt only hummed lowly while I did as I said.

Getting him to bed was a struggle again, his heavy legs refusing to support him, but ultimately, we managed. The moment his body hit the mattress the room was filled with his soft snores. I smiled to myself while I clean up everything I used for the potion, and then wash myself.

Blood was crusting my face and hands, and I had to scrub for it to come off. I undressed when I was done and collapsed onto the bed next to Geralt, careful not to touch his head. Tomorrow, when he was better, I’d bathe him. With the stare he was in earlier, I would have barely managed to get him into the tub, let alone out of it once he was cleaned up. No, we’d do that tomorrow. Now it was more important that he got his rest, got rid of the dizziness.


End file.
